


Lucid

by Mabz



Category: Lord of the Rings - Fandom, The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: F/M, Girl in Middle Earth, Lucid Dreaming, Not What It Looks Like, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-06
Updated: 2014-09-15
Packaged: 2018-01-07 18:14:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 58,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mabz/pseuds/Mabz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A young woman from Chicago feels trapped by the monotonous motions of her life. Things become complicated when she finds herself in Middle Earth every time she falls asleep. The tangibility of these "dreams" is so overwhelming she begins to grapple with her conception of reality. Rating for later chapters. Legolas x OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Neighbors, Friends and Family

**Author's Note:**

> In search of a beta reader for my works. If interested, let me know. :) I had someone but at this moment they are simply too busy. 
> 
> I've always wanted to write one of these "girl falls into Middle Earth," fanfics, but I understand that they are a dime a dozen. I attempted to make my fic as original as possible. If my character seems too superficial or too, dare I say, Mary-sueish please call me on it. I do assure you, though, this is not a self-insertion. 
> 
> With that being said, constructive criticism is welcome but criticism for the sake of criticism, or "flames," will be eaten for lunch. With ketchup.
> 
> I hope you enjoy my story. :)

"This is your life, and it's ending one minute at a time."

~Chuck Palahniuk

* * *

Blood pounded in her ears as she reached out and gripped the railing, flipping herself under, then on top, then over. Muscles screamed as she flew down the baluster adjoined to the stone steps leading down to the expanse of concrete below. Upon reaching the foot of the railing, the petite woman took one mighty leap and landed deftly on the edge of the concrete half-wall erected around a modern statue elevated from the square. Perched precariously on the edge of the platform, she wobbled dramatically for half a moment as she caught her breath- exhalations becoming vapor in the crisp December air- and quirked her lips as she sensed a collective gasp from the onlookers around her. Gathering her strength, she completed her run by launching herself upwards and into a backflip onto the ground, feeling the sudden shock of hard concrete reverberate through her legs as she touched down.

The onlookers, likely tourists by the look of them, exploded into applause as she smiled demurely at them, untying her bandana to mop unceremoniously at the sheen of sweat that shone on her face. The woman squinted, raising a hand to shield her eyes as she peered up the 30-stair staircase she had just descended via railing. She caught a glimpse of her friend, Erik, having recorded her stunt with her own smartphone. He waved at her, giving her a thumbs-up as he galloped down the stone steps, taking two at a time. She cringed as he stopped once to fumble with the phone, nearly dropping it in his haste.

"That was sick, Kaz!" he exclaimed, gasping for breath as he ran up to her. He tried his hardest to conceal his panting, but his breath was obvious in the winter air. "See?"

Kaz peered over his shoulder as he replayed her latest feat on the phone, watching herself lope down the railing from behind; foot-over-foot as she utilized her momentum to launch herself nearly ten feet onto the thigh-high concrete structure encircling one of the many pieces of modern art decorating the park. She grinned as the video portrayed the group of tourists sitting on the concrete half-wall start in surprise, edging back from her. They eyed her as she readied her backflip, mouths falling open in consecutive shock as she doubled back through the air, landing on the group with a loud _thud_.

The phone had picked up their cheering in a burst of static-y noise, and Kaz glanced up to see that the group of tourists were still sneaking glances at the two of them and whispering excitedly to one another behind gloved hands. Unwilling to wait until one of them grew bold and approached the two, she snatched up a handful of Erik's hoodie, tugging him along as he fussed with the phone.

"I wish this thing had a zoom feature, I could've gotten a better shot of your flip," he lamented.

"It does have a zoom feature, I think," she responded, releasing him as soon as she felt they were a safe distance away. Though Millennium Park made for a good site to practice parkour, it was mostly always infested with tourists. More than once she had found herself stopping short of a run, having to stop as people swarmed her route. More than once she had been approached by enthusiasts who wanted to chat her up or give her money-mistaking her for a street performer-and most of the time Kaz just waved them away, awkward and embarrassed. She felt strange taking money from strangers, despite Erik's cajoling. Though a little extra money here or there definitely wouldn't hurt, that wasn't why she did what she did.

Erik furrowed his dark brows in confusion, "What? Where?"

"Ah, I'll show you later," she replied, plucking her phone from his grasp, "I think that last video was the best anyway, it doesn't matter. Let's go fetch your brothers."

"Yeah, you're right," Erik agreed, shoving his hands into the front pocket of his pullover, "It's getting late anyway."

He fell into step beside Kaz, swaying a bit and bumping into her shoulder affectionately. Although she had caught his movement from the corner of her eye and had steeled herself against it, Kaz stumbled a bit despite herself, nearly ending up over the street curb. Erik burst out laughing.

After all, Erik stood as nearly a foot taller than her despite being several years younger than her. He had dark skin and dark hair with a thin face and long, angular features. Though only 18 years to her 22, he looked as though he easily surpassed her in age. However, if one knew Erik DeFour at all, they would know that that was definitely not the case. In reality, he was thin and bony; all elbows and knees with the awkward clumsiness of a boy who hadn't quite caught up with the rest of his body.

Despite this, he still loomed over her short, compact stature. Kaz, or Klara Arlene Zachary, was a gymnast at heart… and shaped like one too. At only 5 feet, 3 inches tall Kaz adored her muscular legs and arms and flat belly. However, much to her dismay, Kaz's cup size and height wasn't exactly impressive. When wearing hoodies and other loose clothing she is often mistaken for a boy and has been called a myriad of names, ranging from pixie, smurf, shrimp, midget, you name it. High school had been exhausting.

She shoved the giggling Erik. "You're not as cute as you think you are," Kaz huffed, pretending to be more annoyed than she felt. Kaz had babysat her neighbors, the DeFour family of boys for years; they were entitled to some allowances.

The two fell into an easy silence as they walked the streets; Erik pulled out his phone to absently play Candy Crush or something while Kaz purposely caught glimpses of herself in the shop windows. One of her coworkers had dyed her hair after work yesterday and the bright pink was a shock every time her reflection appeared. She absently wondered what her dad would think, smiling as she envisioned the stunned look on his face. He wouldn't freak out though… perhaps scold her some for not keeping up a "professional" appearance… but he wouldn't make her change it.

"So, why'd you decide to change your hair, anyway?" Erik asked suddenly, "It looked good brown."

"…Not that it doesn't look good _now_ ," he added hastily as she fixed him with a pointed look.

Kaz sighed, pulling the hood of her jacket up to cover her hair. Erik immediately looked guilty.

"Something different, I guess," she shrugged, returning her gaze to her reflection in the shop windows. In reality she was looking for something to differentiate herself from the other female parkourists in Chicago. The local group was in the process of shooting videos for their website, and Kaz longed to be one of the featured female athletes on the site. For the past week she had been meeting Erik outside of the high school to practice. He was finishing up his senior year and, because the smarty pants had fulfilled most of his credits to graduate already, was able to leave the campus at around two hours early. Erik, bless him, was more than willing to follow her around with her phone camera with more enthusiasm than necessary. That left Kaz with a couple of hours to bounce off buildings and other city structures before she and Erik had to pick up Erik's younger brothers from the elementary and high school.

Erik was fidgeting with his phone and stealing glances at her sideways, obviously concerned he had offended Kaz. She decided to take pity on him and fixed him with a cheeky grin.

"Thanks goober. I look just like Pink now, don't I?"

Erik snorted, but wisely kept the smartass retort Kaz could see on his face to himself.

"Totally," he said instead, a toothy grin splitting his face wide, "Nailed it."

* * *

After a couple more blocks, the pair plunked themselves down on a bench in front of the elementary school. After a bit, Erik had his legs splayed wide, feet planted flush to the concrete. He tapped his phone to the beat belting from his earbuds with his eyes closed, head nodding and singing softly under his breath.

Kaz sat next to him, legs crossed, scrolling through her phone absent-mindedly. The puffs of her breath fogged the screen and she drew her scarf closer to her body, wrapping her four naked fingers in its cable knit fabric. She had doctored one of her dad's old aquatic gloves into a makeshift pair of parkour gloves by slicing off the fabric at the knuckle on the fore and middle fingers. Kaz often wished the grip was stickier to suit her needs, but she didn't have the money to afford a proper pair and the constant grabbing of rough surfaces had begun to tear her hands to shreds.

A blurry strand of pink caught her eye and she caught and rolled the strand between two fingers, staring cross-eyed at the chunk of hair. Kaz finally decided she liked it. She knew that her pieced, pixie-style haircut coupled with the hair dye threatened to make her out to look even more like Tinkerbell's punkish cousin—but in truth, she liked it. Kaz liked to stand out, to do something different. It seemed that, since high school, each and every day had slowly become a route mantra of work, the DeFour boys, and home. She couldn't afford proper gymnastic classes as she had in the past, but parkour kept her strong… kept her active… kept her different… but, most importantly, kept her sane. Things like the pink hair were just candy.

Kaz glanced up as the shrill squeals and cries of children filled the air. A barrage of wriggling children burst forth from the double doors right as the bell buzzed to signify dismissal. Kaz poked Erik on his bobbing head before standing, craning her head to scan the sea of faces.

"There he is," stated Erik from beside her, taking out one of his earbuds. Kaz followed his gaze and spotted Marcus, Erik's 8-year-old little brother. He was looking around, his scarf flying as he rushed in circles searching for them.

"Hey booger!" Kaz shouted. She may be little, but her voice carried and she knew it. Marcus whirled around, smiling huge and making a dash for them.

"Ha ha, you answered to booger, _booger_ ," Erik teased.

"Shut up!" Marcus hollered, his grin unfaltering as he lashed out at his older brother's shin. Erik just danced away from him, laughing and deflecting his shots with his feet.

Kaz rolled her eyes, squinting across the street at the middle school. It was adjacent to and blocked the view of the high school from their position. She caught a glimpse of Erik's middle brother, Jay, making his way across the expanse of lawn separating the two schools. Kaz broke into a smile and waved at the Jay-shaped figure, which waved back.

Erik's brothers looked as though someone had made cookie-cutter copies of Erik but had assigned them different ages. Jay, at 16 years old, had long since been taller than Kaz by a couple of inches. Though it was inevitable, Kaz was just a little miffed the day she realized this. She knew that Marcus wasn't far behind, either.

When Erik's middle-brother approached, he greeted them with a smile before immediately zeroing in on Kaz.

"Klara," Jay said, brow furrowing as he stared at her. Jay was the only one of the three that called her by her proper name. "What happened to your hair?"

Kaz sighed as Marcus immediately stopped attacking his brother to parrot his older brother and nag insistently about her hair. Busted. She lowered the hood of her jacket slowly for dramatic effect, smirking at the boys. "Ta-daaa."

"Whooooooa!" Marcus exclaimed, eyes boggling, "That's so cool!"

Jay raised an eyebrow, "Oh, wow you… uh… dyed it."

"-and it looks great!" he added just as hastily as Erik had earlier as she regarded him with reproach.

"Come on, booger. Let's go home," Kaz suddenly proclaimed loudly, turning and giving Marcus a gentle shove, "Since you're the only one who complimented my hair, you're my favorite today."

Marcus blushed and spluttered, but it was apparent he was secretly pleased. Erik and Jay exchanged nonplussed expressions, trailing after the pair.

* * *

Kaz fished around in her pockets for the apartment entry key, frowning as she palmed the collection of random objects stuffed in the deep lining of her cargo pants. It was a wonder she hadn't lost anything as she bounded around Millennium Park. Not for the first time, Kaz idly wondered if she should get a purse.

She sensed the familiar click and beep as the door was unlocked, and she glanced up to realize Erik had reached over her to access the keypad with his own key. Kaz thanked him but insisted she had had the card in her fist already. Erik just rolled his eyes.

Four pairs of feet tromped up the incline of stairs leading up to the apartments. Without dubiety Kaz followed the boys into their apartment. The odor of something delicious cooking bombarded their senses and her stomach growled decidedly in response. With a start Kaz realized she had forgotten to eat all day. She hoped that Ms. DeFour made enough to share.

"Hi Ma!" Erik shouted into the apartment, proceeding to empty his pockets on the dining room table. Marcus and Jay parroted the greeting in a chorus, following their older brother's lead by depositing their backpacks in a heap on the table.

"Hi boys!" came the response from the kitchen as Ms. DeFour emerged. The boys' mom was as thin, dark and tall as her offspring with high cheekbones and a beautiful smile. However, for her size, Karen DeFour certainly had a pair of lungs on her, "Hey-where do _you all_ think you're going? Get those butts back here and hang those bags where they belong. This ain't your _dad's_ house—oh, hello Klara," Ms. DeFour had finally noticed Kaz hanging back in the door. She aimed a gleaming grin in her direction, "Are you staying for dinner?"

Kaz was quick to hide her smile at the woman's outburst. Ms. DeFour had known her since she was in diapers and Kaz practically lived in her apartment yet she still pulled on her cheerful, there's-company-in-the-home façade whenever Kaz dropped by.

"If you'll have me—it sure smells good," she answered, plucking two of the backpacks from the table. Jay and Erik returned sheepishly at their mother's shouting and Jay "oof'd" as Kaz shoved his bag into his chest with a smile. She hoisted the smaller of the two packs over her shoulder.

"Of course dear, you're always welcome here. Oh, Klara, you should let Marcus get his own stuff," Ms. DeFour flustered, as though Kaz hadn't babysat the kid for more than half his life.

"It's not a problem, Ms. DeFour, it's my fault anyway for getting him the game," she answered good-naturedly. Kaz flashed a smile at the mom of three before following Jay and Erik into the back bedroom. The small room was crammed with two twin beds pushed up against one corner and a small loveseat occupying the south wall. The sleeping arrangements had been strategically maneuvered to accommodate the 32-inch television mounted on an old crate painted wobbly red and black stripes. Kaz remembered that summer fondly—the four of them, without any real artistic talent, out on the sidewalk spray-painting the thing silly.

Seated next to the crate was a white, well-used and well-loved Xbox 360 console. In the five minutes since walking through the doorway Marcus had darted into the room, plunked his bottom on the carpet, secured a controller and had booted up the console with fire in his eyes. The "game," flashed up onscreen.

For his birthday last month Marcus had asked for the latest Halo game (though Kaz suspected he had done so mostly due to Erik's not-so-subtle cajoling), and her, Jay, and Erik all pitched in for the joint gift. Since then, Marcus-and Erik- immediately made a beeline to the bedroom as soon as they came home. With a _thud_ Erik landed right next to his brother and grabbed for the second controller. Jay took his usual spot perched on one of the beds behind them and Kaz plunked down next to him.

Though Kaz had just declared Marcus her favorite not an hour before, in truth it was Jay that was her favorite. His muted demeanor served as a stark contrast to his vivacious siblings. Though it would be a mistake to assume Jay was shy or introverted—when Jay spoke about something he was truly interested in his eyes grew bright with wonder and his hands gesticulated with such fervor one would think he were conducting a symphony. Jay loved books like most boys loved video games. History like most boys loved music. At only 16 years old, Kaz was certain that Jay was smarter than most of the boys she graduated with in high school.

"What's that?" Kaz asked as Jay drew a thick paperback from his school bag. The book was new to her, and she enjoyed staying abreast in Jay's extracurricular exploits. It was certainly more entertaining than watching Erik and Marcus kill bugs—or whatever it was they had been battling onscreen for the past month.

" _Lord of the Rings_ ," he replied matter-of-factly, thumbing through the book to find the bookmark. At her silence, Jay looked up, absorbing her flummoxed expression incredulously. It was no secret that Kaz was frightfully out of touch with the goings-on of… well… everything.

"Really? Aragorn? Legolas? The one ring to rule them all?" he questioned, eyebrows furrowing suspiciously, "Anything?"

Kaz shrugged. She remembered the ads that had aggressively purported the motion picture a number of years back—but that had been when she was in elementary and middle school. Kaz and her dad have never been big movie buffs; they didn't even purchase their first television until she was about Jay's age, and they didn't have cable. Three fifths of the people she associated with on a regular basis were in that room, not including her coworkers.

"I know it's a movie, right? Did they write a book on it too? Or did the book come first?"

Jay stared at her, mouth slack, looking as though he were torn between striking her with the book in his grip or to embrace her in pity. Jay settled for a compromise between these two options by abruptly depositing the heavy volume in Kaz's lap.

"Hey, what-"

"Read that, seriously," Jay insisted, setting his jaw in a determined stare. Kaz screwed up her face in poorly masked apprehension, about to protest when he spoke again, "Of all the books I've tried to get you to read, if you actually read one of them, let this be the one. Seriously."

She regarded his firm gaze for a moment, abashed at his perceptivity. It was true—over the course of two years Kaz had consistently deflected a number of his suggested readings even if he was sure to send her home with the book. She just wasn't the reading type.

"Jay…" she started, a whine stirring in the back of her throat as she tried handing back the brick-like mound of text.

Jay shook his head, waving his hand in front of him as if to usher the book away. "Read it Klara, you'll thank me."

_That's what you always say_ , she thought sulkily, but obediently brought the book back to her chest. Kaz starting turning the book over in her hands with morbid curiosity when a sudden "WHOOP!" from Erik caused her to jump about a foot in the air. The brick book then met the back of Erik's head with a harsh _THWACK!_

* * *

Shortly thereafter Ms. DeFour served a very delicious fettuccine alfredo to the lot of them. Kaz was still chomping away at her generous helping as she watched Ms. DeFour dart around the kitchen, collecting her handbag and keys before she bade them goodbye. Ms. DeFour worked three jobs-often two jobs in one day-to support her three boys. Despite this, Ms. DeFour had always been nothing but polite to Kaz, had always been the strict yet understanding mother that Erik, Jay, and Marcus needed and had always placed the needs of her children above all else. Since Kaz was old enough to understand Ms. DeFour's sacrifice she had always held a deep respect for the woman.

"Hey, Klara!"

Kaz turned, having already put away her plate and prepared to go home. It was about 6 in the afternoon at this point and she wanted to sneak in a nap before she, too, had to hurry off for work.

Jay stood there, his face adorned with a knowing smirk as he pushed _The Lord of the Rings_ into her hands. "You almost forgot this."

"Oh, right," Kaz replied, managing to muster a chagrined expression as she accepted the novel, "Whoops, thank you," She had not forgotten, and they both knew it.

"Well, later man. It's been fun, we should do this more often."

Jay's smirk transformed into a lopsided grin, "Don't be a stranger, shortstuff."

As he waved her out of the apartment, Kaz's smile persisted all the way down the hall. Her and Jay knew full well that she'll see the boys tomorrow… and the day after that… and the day after that. The playful exchange, which they engaged in nearly every time it was time for Kaz to leave, was really just her and Jay being farcical.

When she approached her door, apartment 303, Kaz's smile faded as she wondered whether her dad would be home. Like Ms. DeFour, her father was often out working long hours at the 24-hour gas station, _Zachary's_ , around the block. A couple years ago he had obtained ownership of the place and now Kaz only saw him in passing, if that.

She wandered into the small, two bedroom apartment complex. The apartment had the same layout as the DeFours', so Kaz had a reoccurring sense of déjà vu as she dropped the book and her crumpled bandana on the table, wandering into the kitchen and peering into the refrigerator without much expectation. The refrigerator was vacant save for a half-eaten burger from the joint down the street.

_Good, he ate_ , Kaz thought, closing the fridge door and making her way towards her bedroom. She often worried about her dad—the long hours and stress from his new occupation had resulted in him losing a dangerous and unnecessary amount of weight. It seemed that whenever she caught a glimpse of him rushing around and out the door he seemed even thinner. So whenever Kaz saw him she would often harp on him about his weight (or lack thereof). When Kaz suspected he didn't eat she would often slap a sandwich or something together and run it to him.

_"Just wait, Klara,"_ her dad would exclaim, eyes bright with exhilaration, _"Just you wait. Unlike 'er last owners, I actually_ know _how to run this gas station. I'll get 'er all fixed up, hire more help, and we'll be turning profits in no time. I'll even get you into gymnastics again, isn't that great Klare-bear?"_

That had been a year ago, and at this point Kaz would trade all the gymnastics lessons in the world to just stop having to witness the slow deterioration of her dad.

Kaz sighed, flopping onto her bed and pulling out her phone. She located the video that her and Erik shot today and replayed it, squinting at the tiny screen with a critical eye. _I hesitated too long before the backflip_ , she thought to herself, rolling her eyes. _Stupid._ Looks like she won't be loading this one on YouTube. In addition, Kaz realized with dismay that the phone did _not_ have a zoom feature.

Maybe Erik would be up to helping her out again tomorrow, granted it didn't snow. When leaving, the sky seemed very pregnant with moisture and it was certainly cold enough for it.

She rolled over onto her back, staring at the ceiling. One more day of work, and then she could goof off with the boys all weekend. She couldn't wait. In a sudden stab of guilt, she realized that Jay would be badgering her the next couple of days about reading that book.

With sudden resolve, Kaz got to her feet and ventured back into the kitchen, snatching up _The Lord of the Rings_ from the dining room table and flopped back onto her bed with it. Holding it out over her head, she felt very proud of herself—this was the first time Kaz had even opened one of the books Jay had gifted her with. Perhaps it was his firm insistence this time around that had finally spurred her to action.

"Now what's so special about you, huh?" Kaz mused, flipping to the first page.

_When Mr. Bilbo Baggins of Bag End announced that he would shortly be celebrating his eleventy-first birthday with a party of special magnificence, there was much talk and excitement in Hobbiton._

"Alright, that's enough!" she announced to no-one in particular, closing the book with a snap and dropping it onto her end table. Though it was only the first sentence in the very, _very_ long book, Kaz was still proud of herself for her feat. It had been since high school since she had really ever _read_ anything—and even then Kaz utilized sites like Sparknotes and Cliffnotes as crutches. Not that she'd ever admit it.

Kaz proceeded to dump the contents of her cargo pants onto the table, removing her shoes and bra and pulling a beanie over her pink head. To conserve energy her dad kept the place chilly in the wintertime and warm in the summertime. She often woke up shivering and swore that she could see her breath, yet her dad would fervidly scold her whenever she dared fiddle with the thermostat.

So, Kaz curled up-still clothed in the jacket, pants, and socks she wore outside-and set her alarm on her phone to wake her 3 hours from now. Perhaps getting a few extra winks of sleep would help her survive another night at work.


	2. Wooden Houses Like Giant Torches

"The lion takes its fierceness from your fear. Walk up to the lion, and he will disappear. Run away and he runs after you."

\- Florence Scovel Shinn

* * *

Kaz woke up in chaos. Heavy clouds of smoke invaded her senses and the _heat_ , good god the heat was unbearable. She immediately broke out in a sweat; her beanie and jacket suffocating. Her feet were smoldering, and she realized in alarm that her socks had caught fire. She clumsily ripped them off.

The roar of the flames around her was deafening. Kaz tried to open her eyes but the smoke caused them to burn and well up; tears streamed down her cheeks. She tried to scream but inhaled soot and smoke. Her lungs and throat ached as she managed to flip herself onto her belly, hands shooting forward to scrabble for purchase on the wood floor.

 _The apartment complex_ , she thought before adrenaline fully gripped her, _it's on fire._

Blind and growing faint from the lack of oxygen and seized with an overwhelming eagerness to _move_ Kaz lunged forward on her hands and knees in the direction she hoped was her bedroom door. She kept her gloved hands in front of her as she groped around, scuttling forward and hoping _please dear god_ to not walk directly into a wall of flame.

To her immense relief she noted that the heat was at her back and the faintest of breezes tickled her face. Yet she still couldn't open her eyes—tears dripped from her cheeks as Kaz's digits converged with an object. She frowned as she clamored her way to her feet, feeling up the rough and splintering wooden wall. How odd, her bedroom wall was adorned in the same floral-print wallpaper she's had since she was a baby.

Dismissing the thought, Kaz groped along the way towards the direction she knew her door to be, belly flat against the wall as she inched along. She ignored the jagged wood that cut and pricked at her unshod feet. Her throat tickled incessantly and she chanced a cough, immediately regretting it as heat and smoke poured down her throat, smothering her. Heaving, crying and gasping, Kaz broke into an awkward, stumbling run along the wall. She needed to get out. She needed to breathe. She needed…

_Air._

It struck her full-force, like an ocean wave, instantly cooling her face and freezing her tears in place. Kaz drew in one quick gasp before realizing, suddenly, _where's the fucking fl-_

And then she was falling.

Kaz landed awkwardly, her legs buckling out from under her as she tumbled in the grass. The drop couldn't have been more than a couple of feet, but her ankles protested as though she had twisted them. The cool air kissed her face and licked the burns on her nose and cheeks. Kaz breathed… _and breathed_ … her quick inhalations quickly turning into haggard, biting coughs as she wheezed into the grass. Her arms gave out and she pressed her face into the blessedly cool earth, ignoring the sharp prick of nature on her burns as her body shook with sobs.

There were shouts around her, the loud bellowing cries of men and the clanking of metal against metal. The sound of fire and splintering wood was evident, and Kaz thought she even heard the faint rumble of hoofs on earth. Yet she paid these things no mind. The grass served as a temporary balm to her scorched skin as Kaz simply lay there-arms outstretched-as the coughing that wracked her frame slowly subsided into rattling gasps. Her breath whistled miserably in her throat from the soot and ash she had inhaled. She just wanted to sleep; her body was sluggish and heavy. How nice it would be to just go back to sleep, face pressed into the grass. But through sheer force of will she remained conscious. The faces of the three boys down the hall appeared in her mind. Kaz needed to get up. She needed to make sure they got out alright.

Kaz was suddenly struck with a memory of when an old man in the apartment building parallel to hers had accidently caught fire to his apartment by falling asleep with a cigarette between his fingers. The bellowing of flames and shouts of the fireman and loud blaring of their sirens had been intense, but those things weren't what was etched into her memory. She recalled how she witnessed two fireman dragging out the man as he clutched at their uniforms with his gnarled hands, coughing and choking as though he couldn't get enough air. The man retched and gagged as the fireman hauled him in the ambulance, shouting and begging piteously for his wife. His wife had been dead for years.

Despite his state, Kaz remembered the intense wash of relief. _He was safe. The man hadn't burned to a crisp._

Only to find out he had died on the way to the hospital.

" _Smoke inhalation,"_ her dad had told her as she reeled from the news _, "Poor fella never stood a chance."_

 _Smoke inhalation_ , Kaz repeated in her mind, _Smoke inhalation._

She struggled to open her eyes, wiping them furiously with the back of her hand. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out wooden structures and huge, dancing yellow flames kissing the night sky. Kaz furrowed her brow in confusion. Where she expected the harsh red of fire trucks and ambulances she only saw wood and flames and… were those horses? Where she expected harsh sirens she heard shouts, screaming, snarling and the unmistakable clanging of metal against metal. Where she expected burly firefighters in black coats and yellow stripes she caught glimpses of figures in brown and black attire and… metal? Is that armor?

Kaz groaned, pushing her face back into the grass. She remembered how delusional the old man from the apartment in the building across from hers had been, how he had called out repeatedly for his long-dead wife. Perhaps hallucinations were a symptom of smoke inhalation.

Ice cold fingers gripped her heart as Kaz contemplated the thought. She thought of her dad… of Jay, Erik, and Marcus. Kaz squeezed her eyes shut. _Please, if there's anyone up there, or whatever, please let me not die._

With a groan, Kaz lifted her arms and determinedly began to push herself off the grass. _I don't want to die._ She stumbled, once, twice, and then she was on her knees again, vomiting up the remains of Ms. DeFour's fettuccine alfredo into the grass. Kaz dry heaved several times after that-hands planted firmly in front of her-body trembling with the force of it. Her stomach churned, her head pounded, her face burned and her ankle throbbed. Kaz felt like someone had picked her up and beat the crap out of her, then got into their car and backed up over her for good measure. Not that she knew what that would feel like, but she suspected it felt a lot like this.

As the quaking of her body stilled, Kaz once again struggled to regain her footing. Although her stomach lurched violently from the effort she managed to climb to her feet, fueled by single-minded determination. The faces of the DeFour boys gave her strength.

Kaz stood there, feet planted squarely in the grass. She quivered slightly and fought to contain the bouts of nausea as she absorbed her surroundings at last. Blinking quickly, her blurred vision began to clear. Kaz's mouth fell open involuntarily. _What. The. Fuck._

She hadn't been face-first on the grassy curb between the sidewalk and her street, at she had figured. Not even close. Kaz stood between two wooden houses. The house behind her, which she quickly realized had been the one where she had just emerged from, had been reduced to a charred version of its former self. It appeared that the house adjacent to her was destined to suffer the same fate. Kaz could see flames on the roof, its tendrils reaching up into the dark sky. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the roof collapsed with a thunderous crash.

Kaz caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of her eye, and she turned to lay eyes on potentially the most disgusting-looking thing she had ever seen. It stood there-not a hundred yards away on the cobblestone street beyond the two houses-distracted by the clatter of the falling roof.

Her eyes grew wide as she took in its appearance. It was short, about her height, with broad shoulders, flat nose, and sallow, filthy skin. Its eyes were a glittering coal black and Kaz caught the glint of fangs in its gaping mouth. Kaz uttered a quick gasp despite herself, immediately regretting it when the creature's eyes flicked to her. A hostile grin broke open its face as it fixated on her. A clawed hand tightened around its weapon; a curved, wicked thing stained with black splotches. She stared at the weapon, unable to look away.

 _Is that_ blood? Kaz thought, breath now coming in shallow gasps.

This had to be a dream. Her expression was wan with queasiness and her lungs still ached with the effort to breathe. Her ankle throbbed and Kaz could taste bile in her throat. She clearly recognized bloodlust on the creature's face. Could nearly smell the stench of decay on its breath. The flickering glow of fire behind it portrayed it akin to a demon of hell.

Yet, it had to be a dream. The last thing she remembered was curling up in her bed. Kaz squeezed her eyes shut.

"It's a dream, I'm going to be okay," she whispered fervently, repeating the phrase like a mantra. Kaz's heart dropped as she heard the shifting and tinkle of armor as the creature rushed her. _It's a freakin' dream, I'm going to BE OKAY!_

In that moment, several things happened at once. The throbbing in her ankle suddenly vanished as did her nausea. Her eyes flew open as she sucked in one, deep breath. Her lungs and throat responded exuberantly, seemingly healed and free of their burns and toxins. Before the creature bore down on her, Kaz allowed a single, quick exhalation of relief. _This is totally a dream._

Renewed with vigor, Kaz leapt out of the way of the creature's slashing weapon, rolling on the grassy expanse for a moment before leaping to her feet and taking off in the direction from which the creature had come.

The creature was fast but Kaz, now fueled by adrenaline and lucid realization, was faster. Now that she was convinced this was a dream-and quite possibly the most badass dream she's ever had-Kaz intended to see it through. At that meant not getting killed. Everyone knew you woke up when you got killed in a dream.

She heard the furious bellow of rage from behind her and grinned, smile quickly vanishing as she stepped out onto the cobblestones and took in the utter obliteration before her.

The path had turned and led out into a small square. Kaz now realized she was in a small village, likely a farming village. Her father had taken her once to her aunt's farm in Iowa. The smell of the farm had been unique and unforgettable. The smell was apparent here, nearly palpable alongside the reek of burnt wood, blood, and putrid fetor of death.

Conscious of the creature advancing on her, Kaz allowed her gaze a moment's sweep of the area. She noted that the square was littered with bodies of creatures, men, woman, and children alike. She noted the up-ended crates and barrels, the destroyed stables, the slaughtered cattle. Fires still raged in the homes surrounding the square, illuminating the night sky. The light of the flames cast ghoulish shadows on the faces of the dead. The cobblestones were slick with blood. There was no person alive save for a smattering of frightened chickens clucking around the carnage.

Kaz blanched, suddenly nervous about her state of mind. Did all of this come from her subconscious?

She then took off, dashing across the square and onward, following the cobblestone pathway up a hill to tour the extent of her imagination. Her bare feet slapped against the stones as she ran, mingling with the blood, dirt, and rot splashed there. Kaz felt-more than heard-the creature giving chase; the pounding of heavy feet on stone a sharp contrast to the loud rumbling of flames. Black ash and soot hovered in the air and Kaz found herself blinking away tears once more.

Her impaired vision nearly caused her to run right into a group of figures clustered around the awning of a farmhouse and she danced away to avoid tumbling into them.

"Them" consisted of a knot of creatures not unlike the one pursuing her. Their features diverged from one another in varying degrees of grotesque, yet it was apparent the creatures were of the same lineage. The group of three hadn't noticed her, so riveted they were in their task. They were clawing and swinging their weapons at a pile of debris with every intention of making a path into the farmhouse. Kaz briefly pondered their actions until she heard screams coming from the house. Her stomach dropped; they were the shrill screams of children.

Without warning, Kaz immediately understood her role in this spooky, vivid dream of hers.

Her previous assailant had finally caught up to her and-upon spotting the others-hesitated as it glanced at her. Kaz was already moving though, putting some distance between herself and the strange collection of creatures as she bent forth and scooped up a loose cobblestone.

"Hey!" Kaz hollered, lobbing her projectile at the nearest brute. The stone bounced off its head with a satisfying _thunk_. "Hey! Short, dark, and ugly! Yeah, you!"

The stricken creature whipped its head around at once, having the decency to look stunned. Kaz would be surprised, too, if there were a 5'3", 110 pound streak of nothing chucking rocks at her noggin. The hungry stare of the creature that had chased her intensified as it took a step forward.

In moments another makeshift missile was in her hand-this time a heavy bit of broken wood-and she let it fly. It missed its targets entirely, instead clattering at the feet of the creatures. The projectile did, however, serve its purpose. She now had the full attention of the grisly beasts; four pairs of murderous ebon eyes watching her as though Kaz was dinner.

The scrutiny of these fearsome creatures caused her stomach to wrench uncomfortably, but Kaz swallowed hard and fought to bury her anxiety. _It's a dream; a stupidly badass dream._

And with that, Kaz turned on her heel and ran. As she dashed across the cobblestones she twisted her head around to make sure the group had been following her. She needn't have bothered—the hammering of heavy boots behind her reverberated through the cobblestones and up her bare feet.

The incline of the path grew steep as she advanced deeper into the village. It was apparent that this particular village had been built atop a large hill, and Kaz was running along its main road. The sounds of screaming and voices became more perceptible as she ran on. She was suddenly sure she was following the same path the creatures had when they had attacked the village. Kaz remembered the all-too-human faces of the slain victims in the square, and hope blossomed in her gut. She suddenly longed to catch a glimpse of another human in this strange dream.

It seemed, as though, this would not be the case as she stumbled across yet another group of creatures. Kaz had emerged upon the scene just in time to watch one of them run its blade through a villager.

This brute was larger and taller than the others, standing nearly 6' tall. It was more humanoid than its smaller counterparts, thin and muscular with broad shoulders. However, its appearance denoted its true nature. With a sloped forehead, ashen skin, yellowed fangs, and rippling muscles this thing was positively terrifying.

Kaz watched horrified as the glittering, blood-soaked blade withdrew from the villager. The man's face permanently contorted into an expression of pain and surprise, he slumped to the ground. His head lolled to one side, lifeless eyes seeming to stare accusatorily at her.

Her empty stomach twisted, terror lodged in her throat. _This is a nightmare_ , she thought dismally, rooted to the spot.

Kaz knew that the group that had been trailing her had caught up; they encircled her, eyes darting furtively in the direction of the murdering abomination before her. They chittered, anxious, and if Kaz hadn't been so transfixed by the sight before her she would have realized they were attempting to herd her forward. She stumbled as one of them shoved her mercilessly from behind, goading her towards the taller beast.

The realization came fast as yellow, bloodshot eyes came to rest on her face. Kaz shuddered at the savagery, the unapologetic brutality she saw in those eyes. Catching her agitation the monster grinned, shouldering smaller uglies out of its way as it lumbered towards her slight frame.

Fear gripped her, constricting her airways and making her feel slightly light-headed.

"This is only a dream… this is only a dream… " Not for the first time, Kaz found herself repeating that mantra. She wondered if dreams always felt this real for normal people; if _normal_ people would smell the blood and burning wood in the crisp air, if _normal_ people would sense the excitement resonating off the creatures gathered around her, if _normal_ people have ever had a moment in a dream so terrifying that they were in very real danger of voiding their bowels.

 _This is only a dream… and when that_ thing _kills me, I'll wake up_ , she reasoned with herself, swallowing hard as the creature began to raise its weapon in anticipation. The man's lifeblood beaded and fell from the blade, splattering in an array of crimson droplets on the cobblestones. _It won't hurt, it'll be over, and I'll wake up._

Kaz watched unflinchingly as the anathema came within arm's length of her. She watched as it drew the weapon back, prepared to run her through as it did the villager. Skewered like a slab of meat. Kaz could feel its scalding breath on her face; could nearly feel the bloodlust rolling off in waves.

She thought about the boys, her neighbors. She thought of how she would brag to them, relaying the terror and hopelessness of her dream. How she was shish kebob'd by Big Ugly and how she, in fact, did _not_ wet her pants. She imagined how Erik would roll his eyes, convinced she was bluffing. She imagined the expression on Jay's face as he would sit there, transfixed with her story. The image drew a small smile to her lips.

As she began to close her eyes, succumbing to her fate, a deafening howl pierced the night sky.

Kaz's eyes flew open, startled, and landed on the creature. It took her a moment to realize an arrow protruded squarely from its chest, the tip not even a foot from her nose. The howling resonated from the enraged beast before her. It grabbed the arrow in one meaty fist, pulling the entire shaft through and out its chest. Kaz's eyes popped as it crumbled the offending arrow in one fist. She caught a glimpse of dark blood welling from the wound as it turned to face its attacker.

A small group of men lie not a hundred yards away. They appeared haggard, bloody and worn. Their garb seemed dated, befitting to pictures Kaz had seen in her medieval history books. The archer in front lowered his bow, meeting her gaze. Kaz was momentarily stunned by the humanity in those strained eyes.

"Run boy!"

The desperation in the man's voice was like a shock of cool water, as though a bucket of the stuff was upended on her head. Seizing the advantage of the creatures' momentary disorganization, Kaz lunged to one side, ducking between a gap that had opened between two of the creatures. She took two sure-footed steps before leaping onto a crate and up onto the awning of a house. Her fingers gripped the edge of the awning as she hoisted herself up and onto it.

Kaz turned to watch the taller creature's eyes flick to her for a brief moment before pointing and barking out orders, words guttural and harsh.

"You, kill the child. You, come."

And then the abomination turned and bounded after the group of brave men-who had fled at this point- tailed by a group of eager, smaller uglies. Kaz had nearly fallen off her perch when the beast had spoke, having been positive that it were nothing more than a senseless, flesh-hungry demon.

The other half of the band of misfits immediately made towards her, scrambling up the awning with surprising ease. It took her a moment to realize that she was the "child."

 _Run, stupid!_ Her mind screamed. And she did, spinning on her heel and dashing across the roof.

Shingles bit into her bare feet as she ran, saying a silent prayer in relief as she realized she had chosen a cottage that had not been on fire. It seemed as though many of the buildings deeper into the village were not yet consumed in flame; the creatures having not yet setting them ablaze.

Kaz saw the gap between houses fast approaching. The distance between the cottages was about as long as she was tall, but she knew she could make it. Utilizing her momentum Kaz took a mighty leap, feet adjoining to the roof of the adjacent house. She then pressed onward, heart hammering as she counted the dull thuds of bodies connecting with the house behind her. She lost count after five, but didn't stop.

_Go go go jump go go go jump._

Rational thought left her as she ran, adrenaline channeling some primitive part of her that was possessed with fear and the desire to escape. Her lungs burned with exertion and her face shone with sweat. Her muscles, chiseled from years of gymnastics and parkour, protested as she pushed them to their limit. She was minutely aware that her discalced feet were becoming slippery, likely slick with blood from the sharp angles of the roofs.

Kaz was terrified. This was her dream-she _knew_ it was a dream-and she was terrified. It was too real. It was too much. She ached for it to end; to wake up thrashing in her own bedroom. She knew she should just turn around and allow her pursuers to descend on her and release her from this nightmare. But she was too cowardly, too afraid of the end result. She remembered the agony she had experienced in the burning building and was all-too-aware of her throbbing feet; pain thrumming through her with every step. _Pain_. If _this_ hurt would she feel herself die, the sharp weapons thrusting into her body? Kaz didn't want to find out.

With a start, Kaz abruptly ran out of roof. Unthinking, she pitched herself forward into a tree. Her sweaty palms grappled with branch momentarily before she lost her grip and fell, landing on her back. Breath knocked out of her lungs, Kaz was delirious for a moment and blinked up at the starry sky. Her vision was masqueraded by reaching tendrils of nature, and Kaz realized she had fallen directly into a bush.

The branches crushed underneath her bit into her back as she watched an array of ugly heads peek out from over the roof. Their eyes searched the mountain forest imploringly. Kaz's heart thudded in her chest as she sought to maintain control of her ragged breathing. Her heart beat so loud she was sure the creatures could hear it.

A chorus of yells and screams suddenly permeated the air and, like blood in the water, the creatures forgot their pursuit of her and disappeared from over the side of the building. Relief flooded her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Her heart ached for the folks that had served as her convenient distraction, and she had to firmly remind herself that it was a dream. Those folks were not real.

Still, she hoped it wasn't the group of men that had rescued her. She thought back to the bearded, bloody archer. She recalled the fierce determination that set his eyes ablaze, his strained voice telling her to run. Kaz didn't even blame him for mistaking her for a boy.

She spent a few heartbeats in the bush-staring at the sky-before attempting to move. Kaz nodded her head and wiggled her fingers and toes, satisfied that she hadn't done anything unfortunate like break her back. She clamored up into a sitting position, fingers grasping the branches of the bush to hoist her upward. Kaz gasped as a searing pain coursed through her abdomen, and she idly wondered if she had broken her tailbone. Her appendages ached and burned and her feet were chilly as blood dried on her soles.

"This is a shitty fucking dream," she muttered to herself, rolling out of the bush and onto the soft grass of the forest. Leaves crunched underfoot as Kaz staggered to her feet, utilizing the tree she had fallen from as support.

Then she simply stood there, clutching the trunk of the tree, mind reeling with all that had happened. She could scarcely believe it, was that cluster derived from her subconscious? She had never seen those creatures before, had never been to a place quite like this, and she doubted her imagination was that inventive. And yet, it must be. It was the only explanation.

"I'm ready to wake up now," Kaz said, keeping her voice steady but low enough to avoid attracting any unwanted attention. "I want to wake up now. Wake up. Wake up!"

Frustrated, Kaz turned around and banged her head against the tree. Pain blossomed in her skull as she clutched her head, moaning. Obviously that had been a bad idea.

She then pinched herself… hard. And then again. And again. Nothing.

Kaz resisted the urge to stamp her foot like a petulant child, uttering a soft _harrumph_ under her breath. This was getting her nowhere.

She looked up at the building she had hurtled herself from just a moment before. She had reached the edge of the village; before flinging herself off the roof Kaz had caught a glimpse of a sea of trees stretching out over the hill. The shadows of night had prevented her from seeing anything further.

There was really no telling what awaited her in the forest, but Kaz wasn't in a terrible hurry to get slaughtered back in the village. Sucking in a resolute breath, she meandered into the trees. The forest was dark and low-hanging branches slapped at her face, but Kaz was determined to put distance between herself and the village. At least, far enough away so that she could no longer hear the screams. She knew they weren't real, but they chilled her to the bone nonetheless.

Kaz wasn't sure how far she had gone. The ache on the bottoms of her feet had subsided into a dull throb as she trooped through mud, twigs and grass. She hadn't bothered to will the cuts away as she had before-the pain serving as a reminder of the dream's lucidity. She hoped she remembered this dream when she woke, as appalling as it was. Kaz was no expert at interpreting dreams, but she was certain this particular one spoke volumes about her as a person. Perhaps she was a psychopath.

The eerie glow of the burning village had long since faded and finally Kaz could perceive no noise but the gentle sounds of the forest around her. Exhaustion coursed through her as her legs buckled, seeking refuge against the sturdy trunk of a nearby tree. Weariness coursed through her; it was as if her very bones ached.

 _I suppose running for your life will do that_ , she thought, arranging herself more comfortably against the tree. It was as good of a place as any to take a quick nap, she supposed. Not that there were any _good_ places in this treacherous dreamscape.

Her head hit the back of the tree as her eyes slowly drifted shut. Kaz was lulled into a peaceful slumber, soothed by the tender melody of the forest around her.

* * *

With a start, Kaz jolted awake. Sweat clung to her brow and stung her eyes. Her muscles ached in protest. Her hands immediately came up and cupped her face, her shoulders, her stomach. She felt the reassuring softness of the bed around her, grabbing fistfuls of her bed sheets.

"Oh, thank god," she breathed, visibly deflating in relief.


	3. Barren Parking Lots Frozen with Snow

"I am convinced that life is 10 percent what happens to me and 90 percent how I react to it."

\- Charles R. Swindoll

* * *

Kaz slowly relaxed her fists from where they clutched at the bedsheets, reaching up to drag a hand over her face. She had never been so relieved to be awake in her entire life. Her head pounded and her body ached, but she was awake.

Kaz stared up at the ceiling of her bedroom for several minutes, mind reeling. Images from her dream flashed into her mind. She vividly recalled her near-asphyxiation in the burning building and the cold, calculating stare of those horrible monsters. She recalled the pounding of heavy feet behind her as she tore across the rooftops and the unmistakable fear she felt as creatures peered over the roof and raked their gaze over her concealed form.

With effort, Kaz pushed these memories from her mind. She was going to drive herself crazy dwelling on a circumstance fabricated by her own subconscious. Kaz groped in the dark for her cell phone to check the time. 9:20pm. Kaz groaned. She had to be at work in 40 minutes.

Normally, Kaz would have rolled over and opted for a bit more sleep. However, she was in no particular mood to chance returning to that horrid dreamscape. She instead swung her feet out of bed, immediately yelping as bare feet met floor and pain flared up her leg. She drew her feet into her thighs, sitting up cross-legged and fumbling for her lamp switch. As pale light illuminated her bedroom Kaz caught sight of the bottoms of her feet and uttered a low hiss.

They were caked with dried blood. The blood proceeded to mask the deep, unsightly lacerations crisscrossing the bottoms of her feet. It was as if she had gotten up in the middle of her nap and did the Macarena on a pile of broken glass. Kaz reached forward and drew aside her bedsheets, stifling a gasp when she saw the sticky puddle of crimson on the mattress where her feet had been.

Kaz stared at the blood for several beats, thoroughly dumfounded. She hadn't torn her feet up bouncing off of things at Millennium Park, had she? No, Kaz had been wearing her sneakers. She would've noticed these wounds immediately.

With a start, Kaz remembered the pain she had experienced as sharp angles bit into her unshod feet when she fled across village roofs in her dream. She had been sure she had left deep gashes in them, remembering how painful it had been to hobble determinedly into the forest.

But that was just a dream. It had to of been. _And yet…_

Kaz shook her head slightly, chiding herself for even considering the notion. Of course it had been a dream. She must've gotten up in her sleep and sleepwalked somewhere… somehow removing her socks and cutting up her feet in the process. The dream must have felt so real because the pain in the "real" world was real. She must've walked across something sharp in the real world. _Sleepwalking… huh._ What a trip. Yet it seemed like the only reasonable alternative.

Kaz shrugged her shoulders, grimacing at the soreness in her waist and back. Her head continued to throb with an unrelenting headache. She must've fallen from somewhere while sleepwalking. She probably walked right into a couple walls, too. Likely headfirst.

The rationalization comforted her, though the idea of potentially sleepwalking to some unknown location and harming herself had her heart beating faster. _Why wouldn't I of woken up?_ Kaz vowed to do some research on the Internet after work tonight. Perhaps she'll even barricade her bedroom door.

As she gingerly staggered to her feet, Kaz was disheartened with the realization that her wounds would prevent her from practicing parkour tomorrow. She was running out of time to submit her video—the local parkour club was rolling out with the featured female athletes segment on Christmas Eve. Kaz hoped her body healed quickly.

Wincing, Kaz tottered off her bed on her tip-toes-determined to avoid soiling the floor-and awkwardly in the direction of her bathroom to tend to her wounds and get ready for work. The thought of work made her groan. It was going to be a long fucking night.

* * *

Kaz plunked herself down into a shiny red booth, pillowing her head in her crossed arms. Though she had cleaned and bandaged her feet as best she could they continued to throb insistently. Fortunately, there had been no manager tonight to scowl at her as she spent more than half her shift on her ass.

Kaz was a waitress at McCaffery's, a 24-hour breakfast restaurant that offered free Wi-Fi. They were conveniently located near a community college and library so most of their customers consisted of bleary-eyed college students toting backpacks and laptops. Not that she minded; they were usually easy to please with smiles and a pot of coffee. She just wished they tipped more.

She heard her coworker, Shay, slide into the booth across from her and could feel her concerned gaze. It was just the two of them working tonight; Shay doubled as a cook.

"How are you feeling?" Shay asked. Kaz raised her head, resting her chin on her crossed arms.

"Like hell," she muttered miserably. Having really nothing else to do on this slow night, Kaz had explained to Shay at length about her dream and how she suspected she had been sleepwalking.

Shay was about her size and shape with a pinched-in waist that Kaz secretly envied. Her long, straight chestnut hair cascaded down her back and fell to her waist. Shay was a couple years her senior but they became fast friends regardless; Kaz was instantly drawn to her down-to-earth, no-nonsense attitude. Kaz quickly found that she had no reservations confiding in the latter, their conversations often stretching into the night amidst the slow trickle of customers. Meeting Shay had been sort of a relief to Kaz, as she had since given up hope in ever making another female friend. They had just recently begun to go dancing together on the weekends closer to the heart of Chicago. Erik and Shay's little sister, Haleigh, sometimes tagged along if the club was 18+.

Shay crossed her arms and hunched her shoulders, leaning on the table as she peered outside. The booth was situated in the front of the restaurant and faced the mostly-deserted parking lot. The few customers they had had insisted it was going to be a snowpocalypse tonight, and Kaz and Shay found themselves periodically stealing looks outside. Neither of them wanted it to snow—Kaz had ridden her bike to work and Shay's 13-year-old sedan wasn't prepared to tackle a snow storm.

"Was your dad there, in the apartment I mean?" Shay asked, her gaze flitting back to Kaz.

"Nuh uh."

"That's crazy about the sleepwalking, though. I heard that you're not supposed to wake people up when they're sleepwalking. Maybe that's why nobody woke you up wherever you went."

"Well that's fucking stupid," Kaz replied. "If I find out someone let me wander around like a zombie, beating the crap out of myself, I'm going to be pissed."

Shay shrugged, leaning back in the booth and stuffing her hands in her apron.

"That's pretty neat about your dream though, aside from the hurting like hell part. I don't think I've ever had a dream as real as you said yours was. When I realize I'm dreaming during a dream it's usually because I'm having sex with someone or something, cos God knows that doesn't happen in real life."

Kaz barked out a laugh. "Y'know, a sex dream would have been so much better."

"Not if you're sleepwalking too, I'd be a little worried about it the next morning," Shay replied, arching an eyebrow.

Kaz agreed, peering over Shay's shoulders to check on her three lone customers at the other end of the restaurant. The lanky college student in a slouchy knit beanie and wide-rimmed glasses was still nursing his fifth cup of coffee. A middle-aged couple chewed their pancakes in comfortable silence.

"I don't know why he's here, school's on break," Shay stated, catching Kaz's glance.

"What, the young guy? Is it?"

"Yeah, well, at least the high school is. I think the middle schools are on the same schedule. My little sister got out this afternoon." Shay pulled out her phone to check the time. "Never mind, yesterday afternoon."

"Oh," Kaz blinked as the realization dawned on her, "That means the boys got off yesterday too."

She had been so wrapped up with her submission for the parkour video she had completely forgotten. Kaz instantly felt guilty.

"Oh shoot," she continued, fumbling for her phone. "What day is this, then?"

"Friday the 17th," Shay murmured. She was still focused on her phone.

"That means Jay's birthday is coming up in a few days," Kaz said, more to herself than anyone. Where had the time gone?

Shay looked up. "He's the middle child, right?"

Kaz nodded. Shay had never met the DeFour boys in person, aside from Erik, but Kaz certainly talks about them enough.

"How old is he going to be now?"

Kaz considered it for a moment. "He's sixteen now, he'll be seventeen on Sunday."

"I thought Erik was eighteen?" Shay asked with a frown. Haleigh and Erik were both seniors and the same age, yet went to different schools.

"Yeah, but he'll be nineteen next month."

"Okay. Is Erik going to college? Haleigh is seriously stressin' her college applications. I think they're due this fall and she hasn't heard back from anyone."

 _Oh, right. College._ The question caused Kaz to come up short. She hadn't been able to go to college herself after high school, so she hadn't thought to ask Erik about it. He had never even mentioned it.

"I don't think so, I mean, I don't really know," she replied, scratching at the table with her fingernail. Someone had carved something unintelligible into the glossy finish a while back. "He hasn't said anything, anyway."

Shay shrugged. "Well, college is expensive. The teachers give you all sorts of shit for not going but I'd have to save until I'm thirty to even afford one semester for a college around here. I know Haleigh is going to have to take out some mad loans herself to afford it."

"Yeah," Kaz agreed, nodding her head awkwardly from its position on her arm, "There's no way I could afford it right now, even if I had good enough grades in high school to get a scholarship."

Kaz wondered if she should ask Erik about it. She didn't want to put unintentional pressure on him; Kaz didn't know how many people were pestering him for the very same thing.

Kaz caught a movement out of the corner of her eye, and shifted her gaze to meet the sheepish expression of her college student. He smiled and lifted his empty mug hopefully. She returned the smile and made to get up when Shay's hand on her arm stilled her.

"I'll get it, you stay here," she instructed, sliding out of the booth. Kaz shot her a grateful look before turning her head towards the window, silently willing the snow to stay in the clouds until her shift ended.

* * *

The sky had begun belching little white puffs of snow at about 6 in the morning. At this point, the few customers they had had cleared out. Kaz and Shay watched the snow fall from the booth in silence. The parking lot was illuminated by the glow of the restaurant, and the girls groaned in unison when the snow began to stick to the concrete.

At 7:45am Kaz and Shay had gathered their stuff and donned their jackets.

At 8:00am two pairs of eyes were glued intently at the parking lot, and Shay had begun to tap her foot with impatience.

At 8:15am the tapping of Shay's foot literally caused the entire booth to shake.

"You're going to break this thing," Kaz teased.

"Sorry. I want to go home before it gets any worse," Shay replied with a grumble. "What's taking them so long?" Since McCaffery's was open 24 hours the pair had to wait until the first shift rolled in before they could go.

"It's probably just the snow," Kaz replied. She wasn't as anxious as her coworker to venture out in the snow—that meant getting up and her feet still ached.

Shay responded with a tetchy "hmph," leaning back into the booth and crossing her arms. The table did, however, stop shaking.

At 8:30am the first shift finally arrived.

Levi lumbered into the restaurant, a gust of frigid air from the open door causing snow to swirl into the building. Levi was an older, reserved gentleman that had been working for McCaffery's for an upwards of five years now. Aside from Kaz-who had been working for the restaurant since she was sixteen-he was the senior-most employee.

"Sorry ladies," Levi blustered, a toothy grin appearing behind his silver-specked mustache. "Traffic is crawling out there."

Shay's irritation evaporated at the sight of the disheveled man with crimson cheeks and runny nose.

"S'ok," she responded, gathering up her purse and heading towards the door. Kaz tailed behind her with only a minor grimace. "Where's your cook?"

"Boss called 'im and said not to come in," Levi answered, stomping the snow off his boots, "Says we won't be very busy today."

"Makes sense," Shay agreed, turning towards Kaz. "Ready to roll?"

"Absolutely."

"Klara," Levi frowned. "I saw your bike out there. You're not planning on riding in this weather, are you?"

Kaz hesitated. "…Um."

"Of course not," Shay said, looking at her. "I'll drive you."

"My bike won't fit in your car, remember?" They had tried making it fit multiple times in the past.

"I can drop it by with my truck after my shift," Levi shrugged, holding out a gloved hand. "Give me your bike key and I'll grab it when I get off."

"Levi you don't have to do that," Kaz flustered. Levi waved his other hand dismissively.

"It's not a problem, popsicle. Your place is on the way home."

Kaz looked confused at the endearment, and Levi simply nodded at her pink head in explanation. Oh.

She relented to his offer after a moment's consideration, freeing the key from her keychain and dropping it into his palm. Pushing her bike three miles home was an unappealing alternative.

Kaz, thanking Levi profusely, hurried out the door after Shay.

* * *

When Shay pulled into her street Kaz thanked her and clamored out of the car, shuffling up the stairs to her apartment complex. She danced in place as she scoured her pockets for her key card, uttering curses under her breath. Why is it she could never find that damn piece of plastic?

She jumped as a metallic click surprised her from her thoughts. Kaz looked up to see Erik grinning widely at her, holding the door open a few inches. He looked rather pleased with himself for rescuing her again. Kaz just grabbed the door and bustled in, shoving past him in her haste to get indoors.

"You need to glue that thing to you," Erik laughed, pulling the door closed. A flurry of white had chased her inside and settled on the floor.

"Thanks, it's flippin' cold," she responded, ignoring his quip and stamping her snowy feet gingerly on the carpet. She had worn her sneakers to work without considering the possible weather change. Moisture had seeped into her shoes as she tramped through the snow and froze her feet.

Kaz turned and noticed Erik's attire-a sleeveless muscle shirt and gym shorts that hung around his knees.

"Going to the gym?" The lower floor of their building had a couple of free weights and a treadmill.

"Yep," he responded, his grin never faltering. "You should go too; some muscle on those bones will help keep you warm."

"Oh, shut up," she responded, not rising to the bait as she trooped up the stairs towards the apartments. Kaz didn't bother to remind him she had plenty of muscle left over from parkour and gymnastics. As they grew older their conversations consisted mostly of them giving each other shit in a playful banter. However, her cold toes had made her grumpy.

Erik followed her up the stairs.

"You're limping," he said suddenly, a frown in his voice, "Did you hit yourself on something yesterday?"

Kaz sighed, reaching the top of the stairs. "No, I did an Irish jig on a pile of glass in my sleep."

"What?"

She gave Erik a canned version of her dream and resulting injuries. She was already growing weary of retelling the story, and she wanted to save her energy to recount the tale in detail to Jay. She knew he would appreciate it more than anyone.

"That's nutty," Erik said, mulling over her words. "So you just woke up like that? That's messed up."

"Yeah."

"So what are you going to do now?" Erik knew that Kaz usually collapsed into bed after work.

She shrugged. "I don't know; I'll probably just scoot my dresser in front of my door or something."

A slow grin spread across Erik's face and he suddenly leered teasingly at her. " _I_ can keep you company."

"Yeah, right," Kaz laughed, punching him lightly in the arm. "You guys don't have school today, right? I'll be up sometime this afternoon; did you want me to come by if my dad isn't home yet?"

"That sounds good. Oh, Kaz, hold up."

She had already been moving to walk down the hallway to her apartment, but she turned back to Erik questioningly. He had stepped in closer, lowering his voice a notch.

"I wanted to tell you this for months now, but I wanted to be absolutely sure," Erik said. The uncharacteristic, suddenly-serious tone of her friend's voice wigged her out. Her mind raced. _He isn't going to…_

"I'm going to University of Illinois Springfield," he deadpanned. Erik's signature grin reappeared on his face.

 _Oh thank god._ Kaz immediately felt guilty that she thought he was about to tell her that he liked her, or something. She felt even guiltier when she realized how relieved she was when he hadn't. With a start, Kaz realized he was looking at her, expecting a reaction.

"Oh, um… where?" she fumbled.

"Springfield, I just said that," he responded, his smile beginning to ebb.

It dawned on her then. _University of… Erik's going to college._ It felt a bit surreal having this conversation now, having spoken to Shay about the very same thing only a few hours prior. An unknown emotion seized in her throat then and she squashed it down furiously. Kaz forced a broad grin on her face, reaching out to clap Erik on the shoulder.

"Dude, that's awesome! Congratulations! I didn't even know you were applying for colleges!"

"Thanks. Yeah, well, I didn't want to tell anyone until I was sure. I got the acceptance letter in the mail when I got home yesterday. I start next fall."

"Wait… Springfield," Kaz thought aloud, peering up at him. "That's in the smack dab middle of the state right? It's like, four hours away."

"Three," Erik corrected softly. He was searching her face. Kaz kept her expression glued into her grin, but the smile no longer reached her eyes. Erik noticed.

"I'll be home on breaks, and we have all of next semester and summer to dick around," he reassured her.

"Yeah… yeah of course," she responded, the stupid grin still stuck there as Kaz avoided his eyes. "I'm really happy for you man, seriously. I'm serious, that's awesome. You deserve it; you've worked your ass off this semester and it definitely shows. You'll be great."

Erik seemed placated by her response and tension eased out of his frame. The broad, toothy smile reappeared on his face.

"Thanks shortstack, means a lot. You look like you're about to fall over though. I'm sorry about your feet; get some sleep. Try not to go walking outside in your dreams, okay? It's cold."

Kaz nodded, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. The thought hadn't occurred to her.

"Alright, take it easy. See ya," she replied, turning and escaping down the hallway. After a moment, Kaz heard Erik gallop noisily back down the stairs behind her.

Her thoughts spun, conflicted. Erik was going to college. He was leaving their cozy little corner of the urban jungle.

She let herself into the apartment, kicking off her snowy sneakers and soaked socks. She then made a beeline for her bedroom and flopped abruptly onto her bed. Kaz numbly noticed that her dad's phone and keys were again missing from the kitchen counter, indicating he was still out. She let out the breath she realized she was holding.

Kaz knew it was stupid to be surprised, really. Erik was a smart guy that certainly put much more effort than she ever had into his education. In fact, Erik nearly had all the credits necessary for him to graduate high school and he still had another semester to go. College just made sense as the next step.

" _-Yeah, well, I didn't want to tell anyone until I was sure-"_

Kaz realized with a start that _she_ was the one he was reluctant to tell. Erik wasn't the sort of person that would've been able to keep a secret of that caliber under wraps. His mom definitely knew. Jay probably did, too. He had purposely kept it from her. Erik knew she'd be upset at the idea of him leaving.

A hot, fat tear escaped the corner of one eye and she swiped at it furiously.

"You're being stupid," she told herself sternly, voice catching despite her resolve. What was she going to do, force him to stay? Jay wasn't far behind him in age, and no doubt had college on the horizon as well. What would she do then, chain them up? Make them stay?

Kaz wasn't one to wallow in self-pity but lately her self-inflicted rut had become an immense strain on her psyche. It had been four years since she had graduated high school and all she had to show for it was a less-than-exciting career as a waitress and a rather fruitless hobby of bouncing off buildings.

Kaz didn't have many friends in high school, and the friends she did have had since moved on. Kaz, in contrast, hadn't. She couldn't afford college and her grades weren't good enough in high school to obtain a scholarship. Her and her dad's credit was too poor to take out a loan. Kaz couldn't bring herself to move out because she was afraid her dad would lose the apartment. Or worse, forget to take care of himself.

The aspects in her life that had kept her from slowly going insane consisted of the DeFour boys and parkour. The news that Erik was soon heading off to college was akin to a swift kick in the gut; a hard dose of reality that closed around her heart.

Not for the first time Kaz experienced a powerful sensation of being trapped in an endless loop of her own life.

The sound of a key clicking into a lock roused her from her torpor and Kaz raised her head. She caught a shadow of movement underneath her door.

"Klara?"

"Yeah," she called back, rolling out of bed and padding into the living room.

Upon catching sight of her dad Kaz stifled the urge to burst out laughing, her mood lightening. His large, puffy jacket threatened to swallow up his lanky frame. A thick wool scarf was wrapped tightly around his neck and a matching knit hat adorned his head. Aside from a thick beard the only part of his face visible was a small slice between the top of his nose and forehead. His eyes twinkled as they caught her gaze.

"Hi sweetie," he puffed, slightly out of breath as though he had rushed home. He lumbered through the apartment to the storage closet and fumbled with the doorknob with a mitten'd hand. Kaz grimaced as he left large, wet boot prints in his wake. "How are you? Just get home from work?"

Kaz pointedly looked down at her blouse and waitress apron before arching an eyebrow and looking back up at her father. He wasn't looking at her though, having shoved his face into the closet. Muffled thumps could be heard as he rummaged through the junk piled in there.

"Yeah," she replied. "What are you looking for?"

It was that moment he emerged victorious, drawing their old shovel out with him. Kaz fixed him with a puzzled expression.

"Gas truck," he explained in a rush, already heading back out the door. "Got stuck in the snow in our parking lot. Can't reach the pumps. Gotta help dig 'er out."

Kaz visibly deflated at the news. "So you're going back to work."

Her father turned, stopping for a moment to smile at her guiltily. He likely heard the disappointment creeping into her voice.

"I'm sorry sweetie. I'm off after this, promise. We just need to get through this storm. I'll be home in a few hours. You don't work the next couple of days, right? Howsabout we hang out tonight, hmm? I'll pick up some stuff at the store and we can make hot chocolate."

His smile was infectious; Kaz felt the corners of her lips turn up despite herself.

"It's a date."

"It's a date," her dad parroted in agreement.

And then he was gone, heavy boots clattering back down the hallway.

Kaz went over to re-lock the door her dad had forgotten in his haste. She then ambled back into her bedroom, pausing at the threshold in consideration.

At this point she would fall into bed; being third shift her sleep schedule was opposite of most. Yet her escapade before work yesterday made her nervous. Kaz was still certain the root of her injuries was related to sleepwalking. Where had she even gone in the first place? What if she walked out into the snow while sleeping? She wasn't too keen on becoming a Kazsicle. She really ought to block the doorway before she went to bed.

Kaz was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea. She ventured into the kitchen, snagging a long-forgotten canister of flour from the cupboard and carrying it into her bedroom. She then shut her door, locked it, and dragged her dresser in front of the door for good measure. She hoped the barrier was enough to dissuade zombie-Kaz if she dared make an appearance.

Kaz then drew the crumpled wad of soiled bedsheets out from where she had stuffed them under her bed this morning. She squashed the urge to shudder again at the sight of all that crimson, instead spreading out the sheets so that they surrounded her bed.

Kaz changed out of her waitress uniform quickly, removing her blouse, bra, apron, and pants to don a tanktop, beanie, hoodie, and pair of raggedy sweats. She then walked over the sheets to jump into bed and proceeded to dump a healthy amount of flour onto the floor atop the sheets.

She had to wash the bedsheets anyway, and this way if she walked in her sleep again she'd have evidence in the form of white footprints on the hardwood floor. She had seen the ruse in an old horror film once where the actors were attempting to secure proof that ghosts were afoot. There wasn't any reason Kaz couldn't use the same strategy to catch… well… herself.

Satisfied with her handiwork, Kaz drew her comforter up over herself. She then closed her eyes and tried her hardest not to think of monsters.


	4. Battles are Won with Tears and Slaughter

"Obstacles in your path should not be regarded as obstacles. They are simply features to the landscape, which have to be negotiated. It only becomes an obstacle if you let it negate your own intention and will."

\- Ken McLeod

* * *

She awoke with heat on her face. Unlike the fiery inferno that had consumed her senses before, this heat was gentle, comforting. Kaz blinked slowly into the sunlight that filtered through the trees. A gust of wind rustled the foliage above, bringing leaf-shaped shadows to cascade over her face.

She stirred, sensing the rigidity of a tree trunk at her back. Her body ached as though she had slept against the aforementioned tree for hours. The soft sounds of nature chorused around her as her eyes swept the forest, assimilating a panoramic account of her surroundings.

Gnarled roots and rocks and smatterings of moss peppered the ground beneath her. The trees themselves were at about an arm and a half's length apart, thick trunks and staggering height indicative of their age. The bark of the trees was stained a dark mahogany and Kaz had flash of the staggering, rust-colored redwood trees on the west coast.

She closed her eyes once more, uttering a small groan. It didn't take a genius to determine her dream from last night had picked up right where it had left off. Despite the fact she had staggered into the forest in the dead of night, she recognized the feel of the bark under her shoulder blades. She even recognized a few of the snarls and roots she had tripped over gracelessly.

Kaz climbed to her feet, moaning at the kinks and aches that coursed through her body. The bottoms of her feet throbbed as she set her weight on them. She was _so_ over the pain at this point—trudging through the snow and work all day had obliterated her patience. She would be damned if she had to put up with it in her dreams as well.

 _This is just a dream,_ Kaz thought, picking up one of her feet and glowing at her sole expectantly. _It's not real. Heal, dammit._

And it did.

Kaz knew it would; she remembered how she had "healed" herself after bustling out of the burning building. Yet she could not help but stare in rapt fascination as the long gashes obediently began to knit themselves together. The thin scabs that had begun to form over the wounds peeled off and drifted, useless, to the forest floor.

The whole process took less than a couple of seconds, and Kaz shook off her wonder to shift her weight and inspect the opposite foot. Dried, sticky blood still clung to her skin but her feet were otherwise whole again, completely unmarred. She then stretched, testing her body. Kaz smiled as no protest arose from her once-sore muscles.

 _If only real life were like this,_ she mused.

It was at this moment she realized she was still wearing the clothes from "yesterday." She had distinctly remembered putting on a different hoodie and pair of sweatpants before going to bed. Instead of looking down at a pair of sweatpants she gazed instead at her black cargo pants. The pants themselves were smeared with ash and dirt and the bottoms had begun to fray. The hoodie was in no better shape; the elbows worn and smudged with soot from where she had crawled through the burning building. Filth stained the front of the jacket and the sleeves were slightly charred.

Kaz smiled to herself humorlessly. It was morbidly comical that she essentially did not have wound on her, despite the state of her attire. In her world-the _real_ world-the person wearing these clothes would no doubt be in the hospital.

She had also remembered putting on socks. Kaz frowned down at her bare feet. Bits of moss poked up from between her toes. After the mishap with the gashes to her feet Kaz wasn't eager to take a stroll through the forest discalced.

 _This is just a dream,_ Kaz thought, zeroing in on her feet. She wiggled her toes with emphasis. _Give me shoes, dammit._

Nothing happened. Kaz knitted her brows together in annoyance.

 _Shoes._ Now. _Sneakers. Boots. Flip-flops. Anything?_

Nothing.

_Please?_

Still nothing.

Kaz vocalized an exasperated noise as her mind let loose a barrage of incensed expletives. Her feet just stared back at her, seeming to revel in their naked glory.

"Well, that's just great," she muttered. Apparently her omnipotent dream powers didn't extend to conjuring up a pair of shoes.

Kaz suddenly wondered if she was sleepwalking at this moment. She imagined herself in her bedroom, mimicking the same stance. Was she standing eerily on her bed? Or was she shuffling around her bedroom leaving pasty, alabaster footprints in her wake? If Kaz had half a mind she would turn around and plonk herself back down by her tree until she woke up again.

She wasn't going to do that, though. Apparently Kaz was a glutton for adventure, especially in the relatively secure confines of a dreamscape. Despite her rocky start, Kaz longed to explore this strange little world her imagination had concocted. Perhaps the sunshine had lulled her into a false sense of security. Perhaps her selective memory conveniently benumbed the terror she had experienced at the hands of the opaque creatures from before.

Whatever the case, Kaz lifted her head with bold resolve in an attempt to determine the direction from which she came. She figured she may as well head back to the town-or what was left of it, anyway. Kaz had remembered her fleeting view of the forest from her roost atop the roof. It had stretched on in rolling waves of greenery, the sheer incline suggesting a mountainous backdrop. Since hiking up a mountain didn't sound overly appealing, she decided she'd risk returning to the village from which she fled.

Kaz plodded carefully through the trees, ever conscious of her unshod feet. Though she had been fairly certain of her way back to the village the sight of a wooden structure as it swam into view was a relief.

The village was eerily silent; only the sounds of the forest could be heard. Kaz noticed a couple thick plumes of black smoke-evidence of the recent attack-marring the clear blue sky.

It was at that moment, then, when she realized that she had a problem.

A sturdy, wooden fence-about 12' tall-was erected around the entire village. It had been constructed with trunks of the forest trees strung together with broad, sturdy netting. The large logs ended in whetted points so that the barricade resembled a sort of massive, formidable picket fence.

Kaz hadn't noticed it last night because the roof she had jumped from was taller than and erected flush against the barrier; she had unknowingly vaulted completely over the fence in her haste to grab at a low-hanging branch. That must've been why the creatures hadn't immediately chased her into the forest; it would have created an inconvenient detour for them once they had… well… "finished" with her. Kaz squashed a shudder at the thought.

She looked to her left and right with a heavy sigh. The barrier extended down in both directions, stretching farther than the eye could see. If Kaz were to attempt to find the entrance on foot she'd have to walk a ways. Even then there was no telling what she'd find. The barrier was too tall to scale from her position on the ground, even with her parkour-toned body. The thought of leaping from a tree to or over the barrier made her nervous as well; her brain helpfully supplying a mental image of her being shish-kebab'd by one of those sharpened spikes.

Kaz gazed up at the fence with sudden purpose. She had almost forgotten… this was a _dream_. How many dreams had she had where she had the ability to fly? Walk through walls? Teleport? There was one time where she distinctly remembered throwing a tiger into outer space. Though she couldn't manage to conjure up a pair of shoes, jumping over a wall shouldn't be that hard, right? She could secure a hand and foothold between two of the wooden pylons to peer over the top.

Kaz backed up, cracking her neck and letting out a slow breath. _It's a_ dream. She then charged the wall, foot over foot over foot and then _leap_. Her hands automatically flew out, scrabbling for purchase on the rough wood. Before her brain had caught up with the rest of her Kaz had all but wrapped herself around the top of one of the trunks, her nose level with the honed point of the log. _I made it._

Heart thudding in her chest, Kaz tilted her head down from where she came and immediately wished she hadn't.

 _I'm very high up_ , she thought to herself in awe. _I'm so so_ so _very high up._

Kaz wasn't particularly fearful of heights-her parkour hobby would have come to a short end otherwise-but the distance she had just leapt was staggering, almost spooky. She hadn't even needed her feet on the wall to help propel her upwards.

She twisted her head to peer over the other side of the barrier. The village had been built on a slope so from her vantage point Kaz had a very clear perspective of the town-or what was left of it, anyway.

The village itself was not small, larger than she had realized at first blush. It was composed primarily of small houses and barns, about 200 from which she could count; the roofs clustered together into neat rows. A larger, wooden castle-esque structure could be seen to her left. It was the origin of a particularly thick plume of dark smoke that bellowed from its roof.

Upon catching sight of large, half-demolished wooden gate on the opposing end of the village Kaz then realized that she was in the very "back" of the town, perched at a point of the fence closest to the mountains. The destruction seemed the most rampant at the forefront of the village, nearer to the front gates. Many houses had been completely obliterated, reduced to blackened rubble. Lazy fires continued to burn in scattered areas. The air stank with the odor of charred flesh, blood, and burnt wood.

Despite town's size, there was not a single living creature in sight. Where there once may have been the distinct sounds of dogs barking, children laughing, and babies crying there was nothing. An eerie calm seemed to settle over the village in a haze.

Kaz looked down at the ground on the inside of the fence. She exhaled for a few moments, focusing on her breathing before she leapt from her perch, hitting the ground in sudden shock and rolling into a neat landing.

It struck her as she climbed to her feet; a wall of fetor that brought tears to her eyes and nearly knocked her back to the dirt. The reek had been tolerable upon the fence; her vantage point nearer to the sky. On the ground, however, the smell of burnt flesh and fire and death was near overpowering. Tears stung the corners of her eyes as Kaz pulled up the collar of her hoodie to cover her nose and mouth. The interior of her hoodie smelled like nature and her deodorant and was far more tolerable.

In addition to the stench, the utter devastation was more severe at close range. Deceased cattle lie close to her, torsos pried open by slashing claws and their contents spilled over the stained cobblestones. Kaz saw a woman not a few yards away; only the top-most part of her was visible. The woman lay face down on the cobblestones in a pool of dried blood, her lower half crushed by a fallen canopy. A swaddled, deceased baby lay before her, face wrenched open in a permanent scream of terror.

Kaz felt the bile begin to rise in her throat. The courage she had felt before scaling the wall quickly began to wane. Not for the first time, Kaz was horrified at her own subconscious. How could she dream such things?

She staggered to one side, falling to the ground and gagging. Her dry heaving intensified as she moved her hoodie away from her face and unwittingly breathed in the stench of death. There were no contents in her stomach; Kaz merely spat and shuddered as her stomach clenched painfully.

After a tense couple of minutes Kaz finally climbed to her feet, wiping her mouth with one sleeve and repositioning the hoodie's collar over her face. She wanted nothing more than to retreat back across the wall and into the forest, running as fast as her bare foot could carry her. Yet she was determined to see this through. With valor that seemed almost uncharacteristic, Kaz ventured onward.

She attempted to focus solely on her feet-the simple act of placing one in front of the other. Yet her eyes betrayed her, snapping up to regard each corpse she passed. The sight was petrifying, yet she found she could not look away, mesmerized by the sight of death. Her thoughts flicked to how people would gawk while driving past car accidents. The comparison made her shiver involuntarily.

As Kaz pushed onwards her surroundings became more familiar. She recognized the spot where she had nearly been skewered the night before. Her bare feet slapped against the ground as she maneuvered around the deep stains embedded in the cobblestones. Dark crimson mingled with deep obsidian. Kaz wondered fleetingly if the blood of the creatures had been black.

As Kaz descended the same hill she had dashed up the night before the view of the stone square swam into view. That was when she saw them. Her heart caught in her throat as she froze, panic coursing through her body. She made to run when eyes caught her own. Human eyes. The tension eased from her, yet only slightly.

A small group clustered in the center of the stone plaza. They all appeared decidedly human; Kaz counted four men, two women, and two children from their size and apparel alone. However it was difficult to tell from war-borne appearance. Faces and arms were smeared with blood and muck.

Upon catching sight of Kaz, the man who had seen her immediately raised a discolored sword and barked a warning. The effect was instantaneous; the women stepped in front of the children protectively. The men swarmed around them and raised their respective weapons. Kaz was reminded of how animals formed a circle to protect their young from predators. She had seen it on Animal Planet while babysitting Marcus once; she remembered how the adult musk oxen formed a circle around their young, their sharp horns protruding outwards. Kaz stared at the cluster of pointy swords waving in her direction. The comparison was eerily similar.

"Who are you?" the front most man demanded. His voice was strong and made to be intimidating, yet Kaz could perceive the weariness in his voice.

She was sure she made for a peculiar sight for the lot of them. Kaz was just as smudged and disheveled as the others, yet the type of her clothing stood in stark contrast. As the women wore modest dresses and aprons Kaz wore a navy blue hoodie with dark cargo pants. As the women wore bonnets and braids in their long hair Kaz's lopped-off locks were hidden under a dark beanie. As the group was outfitted in soft leather boots her feet were dirty and bare.

"Ka-er… Klara," she answered warily, raising her hands, palms unclenched, in a position she hoped was nonthreatening. At the removal of her hands Kaz's hoodie-mask slipped below her nose and she tried holding her breath to buffet the smell.

Kaz wasn't sure what prompted her to answer with her given name. Perhaps she felt as though her nickname would be a bit too much atop her strange appearance. Kaz wondered when she began to feel sympathy for the players in her own dream.

"You are a woman?" the man replied, surprise evident in his voice. Kaz experienced a flash of annoyance. It was not the first-nor will it be the last-time she had been mistaken for a boy. However it stung each and every time.

"Aldrich, stop. She is just a child," one of the woman pleaded from behind him. Kaz's gaze drifted to her, catching a glance of her face from between the shoulders of two men. Her voice had been feminine, but from beneath the dirt and grime that marred her visage Kaz could scarcely make out that she was a woman as well.

"Look at her clothing, Palma," the man argued, his eyes raking over Kaz's slight frame. "Look at her feet. Where are her shoes? She is strange creature. She does not hail from Upbourn."

_Upbourn? Is that what this place is called?_

"-she may be a spy of the east, sent in the skin of a child to deceive us."

It was at that moment Kaz recognized one of the men in the group. Above all else she recognized his eyes as he stared at her. She recognized his bow; his muscles were taut as he drew back an arrow.

"Thank you," Kaz blurted, fixating on him. The man faltered, surprised to be spoken to. "Thank you for saving me last night."

Aldrich's head swiveled to look between the two of them.

"Allard?" Aldrich asked. "How do you know this child?"

Allard eyed her for a moment, recognition dawning in his eyes.

"A Uruk-hai meant to run her through with its sword," Allard answered carefully, his eyes trained on Kaz. "I intervened."

"Are you certain?" Aldrich pressed. "She did not maintain league with the beast?"

"It was no ploy," Allard answered softly, certain. "Though she was a distance away, her fear was real. The Uruk-hai's intent was real."

Aldrich's gaze turned back to regard her. Though the other man's answer seemed to diminish a bit of his anxiety Aldrich didn't seem wholly convinced.

"Then explain yourself, child. You are not of Upbourn; from where do you hail?"

The whole exchange seemed so surreal it took Kaz a few heartbeats to realize that the man was expecting an answer from her.

"C-Chicago," she responded, tripping over her words. The looks on the men's faces did not dawn in recognition as Kaz had expected. In fact, their grips on their weapons tightened.

"Shi-cah-go," Aldrich replied, sounding out the syllables as though they were foreign on his tongue. They very well may have been; it was obvious that her dreamscape reflected nothing of modern geography.

"In Illinois," Kaz offered, realizing then how stupid that was. If they didn't know what Chicago was then they certainly did not know Illinois. "It's um… far away."

Aldrich's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "From the east?"

The cogs and gears in her mind spun. Didn't he just accuse her from being a spy from the east?

"From the west," she immediately replied, eyes glued to the glistening tip of Allard's arrow. Though she was sure she was dreaming Kaz knew that being punctured by that thing would still hurt. A lot.

Now Aldrich appeared confused. "The west? How far west do you speak of?"

"Really far. _Really_ west," Kaz said automatically. She knew she wasn't making a very convincing argument; the threat of being speared by pointy things succeeded in chasing all instances of higher thought from her mind. All she could hope was that Aldrich hadn't been very far west.

"Farther than the town of Bree? Farther than the lands of the little folk?"

"Yes," she replied, nodding her head. She wondered at the "little folk" Aldrich spoke of, but decided not to press it. It wouldn't help her cause. "Farther than that. Across the ocean, even."

Kaz had really no idea if there was an ocean, but she figured there'd be one the farther west you go. You're bound to run into one eventually, right? World being round and all that. Well, _real_ world. It'd be just her luck if her dream world was flat.

"Ocean?" Aldrich parroted, furrowing his brows in confusion.

 _Aw, shit._ Maybe she was wrong; maybe this world _didn't_ have oceans. If anything, though, Kaz was stubborn. She persisted with her story.

"Um… big body of water? Sand and waves?" she offered hopefully.

"You're from across the Great Sea?" Aldrich questioned. The suspicion leapt back into his voice so thick Kaz was certain she could cut it with a knife.

_Ah, so they have a sea, not an ocean._

"Yes," Kaz answered, his suspicion forcing her mind to catch up with her mouth and tread carefully. Self-preservation at its finest. She had the distinct impression that if she were to say something wrong in the next few breaths Kaz would have an arrow neatly protruding from her chest.

"I come from an island on the sea, _Illinois_ ," she continued hesitantly. "My family sailed here for… new opportunities."

"That doesn't explain why you're in Upbourn," Aldrich stated after a brief hesitation. "The closest western shore is 250 miles from here."

_Shit._

"We were looking for somewhere to stay… we got lost," Kaz finished lamely. She tensed, fully expecting to be riddled with sharp pointy objects at any moment.

The group, however, was oddly silent for a moment as they mulled over her words.

"Her family may have been looking for Rohan," Allard supplied helpfully. "They may have bypassed the city by mistake and followed the river Snowbourn to Harrowdale. It would not be the first time."

Kaz sent out a huge wave of mental thanks in Allard's direction. Though the names he supplied sounded like gibberish to her it seemed as though Allard was unknowingly supporting her lie. A huge, relieved grin threatened to break open her face but she squashed it immediately. It would be rather embarrassing for her emotions to betray her at this point.

"Where is your family now, child?"

 _Sorry Dad_ , she thought as she spoke. "They're dead… the beasts…" Kaz gestured around at the bodies strewn around her, plastering a dejected look on her face. She felt immensely guilty about killing off her fake family. Her guilt intensified as Aldrich's expression immediately softened, empathy apparent in his eyes.

"They were slain by orcs," he answered quietly, so quietly Kaz had to strain to hear him.

"Orcs?" she questioned before she could stop herself. Aldrich, however, just nodded. He had lowered his weapon at this point, to Kaz's immense relief. Allard and the three other men followed suit, one by one.

"You do not have orcs that far west. They are horrendous creatures as you can see," Aldrich gestured at Kaz with his free hand, the one not occupied with his sword. "Come hither, child."

Hesitant, but not seeing any other choice Kaz padded down to the small group. Though many of the men continued to eye her in distrust, they begrudgingly parted to reveal the additional members of their party. The woman who had spoken earlier, Palma, met her gaze and smiled. Kaz found herself smiling back in response.

Aldrich asked if she was hurt and Kaz shook her head, remembering how she had healed herself after her encounter with the burning building and jagged roofs. He seemed stunned at this-after all, the state of her clothing suggested otherwise-but didn't press the matter, instead venturing over to speak with the small group of men. It seemed as though she had been automatically shuffled over with the women and children. Kaz didn't mind; Palma and the others were far less intimidating than the bristly men with pointy weapons.

A dirty child's face peeked out from behind the other woman's skirts and peered up at her in curiosity. The boy could not have been older than five years of age. A girl stood by his side, staring at her. She seemed to be about thirteen yet she stood nearly as tall as Kaz. The familial similarity between the two was staggering-each had round faces, deep brown eyes and wavy russet locks.

"Klara," Palma said her name slowly, as though testing it out. Kaz wondered absently how well "Kaz" would have been received. "My name is Palma," she gestured towards the boy, who was still staring at her "this is Tranter," she then gestured to the girl, "and this is Juliet. And this…" Palma nodded towards the other young woman in the group, whose skirts Tranter still clutched at, "…is Clothilde. She is Tranter's mother. Juliet is Tranter's cousin, Clothilde's niece."

Kaz nodded as she absorbed this information. She had been afraid she'd never remember all of these peculiar names, but their strangeness actually helped stick them in her memory. She then wondered how Palma fit into this strange, little family yet her question was answered as Palma continued.

"I am Aldrich's wife."

 _Makes sense_ , Kaz thought. Palma had seemed awfully familiar with the latter as she told him to stand down earlier.

"That is Allard, whom you seem to already have met. Allard is Aldrich's younger brother. The other men are Rhett and Warden, they are farmers here. There is another, Tompkin. He is scouting the village."

A familiar guilt nagged at Kaz as Palma relayed this information to her. Aldrich and the men seemed wary of Kaz but appeared to accept her fabricated story. Perhaps to them, the alternative was far more morbid for their weary minds to bear facing. Or perhaps a young, skinny girl just didn't pose much threat.

Palma, however, seemed to trust her implicitly. It was obvious the woman had been prepared to accept her without question, even before she had fumbled through her origin story. An honest person by nature, the series of lies Kaz had uttered niggled at her psyche.

She felt remorseful for lying to a figment of her imagination. Imagine that.

"I know you," a voice said suddenly. It was scratchy with disuse and meek with ingrained shyness. Kaz looked up to meet the gaze of Clothilde. As recognition dawned in the other's eyes Kaz nearly gulped. Was this the point of her dream where the characters turned against her? Had she been caught?

"You rescued my children," she continued, "I looked out of the window when I heard shouting and saw you leading away the beasts." Clothilde smiled bashfully, lowering her gaze from Kaz's own. "You saved my child and Juliet, thank you."

 _Those were the children whose screams I heard_ , Kaz thought with sudden realization. She looked down at Tranter and Juliet, an unknown emotion fluttering in her breast. She knew that the two children weren't real-she _knew_ that-and yet she couldn't stop the wide grin from spreading across her face and relief and delight coursed through her. The children had survived; she was looking right at them.

"I'm so glad you're okay," Kaz gushed, looking at each of them. Tranter, as shy as his mother, ducked behind Clothilde's skirts at the sudden attention. Juliet had a small smile on her face. "When I heard the screams I just… I'm just so glad you're alright."

It was at that moment when another man arrived on the scene. Aldrich and the other men did not react as they did with Kaz, so she figured this must be Tompkin. Tompkin regarded her curiously before his attention focused on Aldrich.

"There is no one left alive in the village," he reported. "The mayor's head is on a pike outside his house. The horses and cattle have all been slaughtered. The orcs left nothing."

The group seemed to visibly deflate at the news. Kaz felt a hand on her shoulder and she looked up into Palma's sympathetic face. It was then Kaz realized her "family" was supposed to be dead at orc hands. She steeled her expression into one of sorrow, covering Palma's comforting hand with her own. Guilt ate at her.

"We must venture to Edoras on foot," Aldrich said decidedly. "We must bring them the news that orcs have come down from the White Mountains. We must tell of Upbourn's fall."

Suddenly Aldrich's full attention was on her once more and Kaz floundered.

"Klara of Chicago, what is your intention thus far? Do you intend to travel with us to Rohan?"

"Um…" Kaz replied, ever-so-eloquent. Palma, however, rescued her from having to come up with a reply. The grip on her shoulder tightened.

"Of _course_ she is coming with us," Palma snapped. Kaz could feel the latter issue Aldrich a withering look over her head. Aldrich balked. Though Aldrich had assumed leadership over this little group, it was apparent that Palma wore the pants, so to speak, in their marriage. Kaz hid a smile at the information.

Aldrich recovered quickly. "Well then, it is a day and a half walk to Edoras. We will follow the banks of the river Snowbourn. It will be wise for Klara to find some suitable shoes. Palma, see to it that the women find weapons. We need to be prepared; the orcs are still out there. We will leave within the hour."

And then Aldrich turned to consult with the other men. Palma looked at Kaz, issuing her a reassuring smile.

"Off you go then, we can't have you frolicking through Harrowdale without shoes," she said, giving Kaz a gentle push, "Hurry, though. Those beasts may be back and we must make haste."

"Where am I going to find shoes, though?" Kaz asked incredulously.

Palma looked pointedly at the carcasses littering the square.

_Oh._

 


	5. Gazing at Mountains from Gaping Valleys

"People are like bicycles. They can keep their balance only as long as they keep moving."

\- Albert Einstein

* * *

Her feet hurt.

No, that was an understatement.

Her feet were on _fire_.

The thin leather boots she had nicked off a corpse chafed and rubbed in all the wrong places; the soles seemed nonexistent and the toe caps bit at her feet. Thoroughly repulsed with the idea robbing the dead, Kaz had taken the shoes from the first corpse she found that remotely resembled her basic stature. That, she had quickly realized, had been a mistake.

In addition, she had neglected to take with her the corpse's thick woolen socks. Despite the uncomfortable indications of annoying and unrelenting agony during their trek, Kaz couldn't bring herself to go back for them.

So she trudged onward, bearing her discomfort in grumpy silence. The heavy, stained sword that Palma had forced her to take bounced against her thigh. Every twenty steps she channeled her omnipotent dream powers to heal her aching feet. However, the pain just reappeared almost immediately. Heal. Walk. Chafe. Heal. Walk. Chafe. Heal. Walk. Chafe.

Though she tried all her might, Kaz just didn't understand why she couldn't summon a pair of tennis shoes. It was unfair.

Before she had realized the full extent of the misery her poor feet were to endure Kaz had taken time to observe the odd coterie she had been involuntarily lumped into. She had not had the time to truly inspect them earlier, as she had had pointy weapons aimed at her noggin.

The lot of them seemed to be of European descent, most of them tall with blonde hair, fair skin and blue eyes. Aldrich and Palma appeared to be the oldest-at around her dad's age-with flecks of gray in their hair and age lines crinkling their mouths and foreheads. The two farmers and Allard appeared to be younger; if Kaz were to fathom a guess she would place them about early-30s, late 20s. Like the others, their long golden hair reached down their backs and swished against their shoulder blades. It also appeared that none of the men had really heard of a razor blade, as they all sported full beards.

Clothilde looked to be about her age, her generous curves and long flaxen hair an evident indication of her femininity. She was so beautiful that Kaz could scarcely believe she was so shy and soft-spoken. She was one of those women that random strangers would not hesitate to whistle at while walking down the street. Kaz resisted the urge cross her arms over her chest in a sudden flash of self-consciousness.

Tranter and Juliet seemed to be the outliers in the group, their russet locks and olive-toned features a stark contrast to the blonde-haired, blue-eyed lot around them. Juliet had caught Kaz's eye as she studied the latter, and instead of turning away the girl had offered her a small smile, of which Kaz had returned before the latter had turned away.

It was a small gesture, nothing really, but Kaz regarded it with special significance. The members of the group-aside from Aldrich and Palma-had since treated her as though she were a wild beast. They eyed her with hesitance normally reserved for unpredictable animals and children and carefully maintained a certain distance between her and themselves. Kaz didn't blame them-though this world had oddities like raging orc beasts it very painstakingly clear there was no shred of modern customs, norms or amenities. Kaz's strange way of talking and her fashion sense, coupled with the fact that she was short, pink-haired, and hazel-eyed had apparently left their medieval stockings in a bunch. (Not that they yet knew she had pink hair; Kaz was careful to keep her beanie carefully arranged to disguise that fact. _That_ was a can of worms she was not keen on opening just yet)

Juliet's small smile, however, had been ripe with empathy. Due to her darker hair and complexion Juliet must've understood what it felt like to be considered the odd one out due to appearances alone. Kaz would have loved to strike up a conversation with the girl, but she felt as though it'd be strangely inappropriate to simply prance up to her.

What would she say, anyway? Kaz understood next to nothing about this unsettling playground that her subconscious had concocted; all she could do was hang on and see where this bizarre world led her.

* * *

They made a strange little tribe.

Aldrich, of course, led the way up the river followed closely by Tompkin and one of the farmers, Rhett. Or maybe Warden? Kaz wasn't really looking all that closely when Palma had pointed them out earlier. Allard and the other farmer brought up the rear.

The women and children were sandwiched in the middle of the group. Tranter had begun to complain almost immediately so Clothilde had hoisted him up onto her shoulders. Palma and Kaz had offered to help carry the boy along the way, yet Clothilde merely blushed and stuttered and refused their help. She and her son seemed perfectly content within their own minds; Kaz could count on one hand the number of times she had heard either of them speak.

Juliet and Palma had talked quietly most of the way. Well, Palma had talked _at_ Juliet most of the way. It seemed as though Palma had willingly stepped forward to shoulder the burden of matriarch in their little pack and she seemed determined to get Juliet to converse with her in an attempt at comfort. The latter could only manage half-hearted chuckles and small smiles, however. Kaz didn't blame Juliet. A real teenager would've been traumatized by the ordeal. Hell, this was Kaz's dream and _she_ felt traumatized.

They had been walking for maybe an hour. The sight of the village had since faded into the distance, yet Kaz could still see dark plumes of smoke arcing into the clear sky.

It appeared that Upbourn had been nestled in a large, flat valley. Mountains rose up on either side of them, their peaks barely discernible in the morning haze. Though a few pine trees were scattered about the valley primarily consisted of tall, rough grass.

They were purposefully following the stretch of a large river northward, away from the mountains. Aldrich had directed the group to keep to the grassier banks of the river, following a worn path. Kaz had immediately noticed a myriad of deep-seated indents of horse hooves in the dirt.

It took her a moment to realize that Palma was speaking to her. Kaz looked up from glowering at her ill begotten footwear to focus on the older woman. Palma had slowed to fall in-step beside Kaz. Her face crinkled as she smiled at the latter, warm blue eyes regarding her with interest.

Kaz scrunched up her face in what she hoped was an apologetic look. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

"You stare at your feet as though they pain you," Palma replied. It wasn't a question. Kaz, however, treated it like one.

"No, um… it's just…" Kaz trailed off, wracking her brain for an excuse. She didn't want to admit that her feet hurt for fear that one of the players in her dream would discover her omnipotent dream powers. Kaz didn't think they'd react positively to the news that they were simply figments of her imagination.

Palma's gaze, however, softened. "I understand. You regret taking the shoes because they belonged to deceased. Do not fret, child. I am sure she would have wanted you to have them."

Kaz merely stared disbelievingly at Palma. Like husband, like wife. Convincing this little gaggle of villagers continued to be embarrassingly easy, as they seem so ready to supply her with excuses for her odd behavior… excuses better than ones she could ever think of herself.

"…yeah."

Palma issued her a knowing smile before looking around, pointedly taking in their surroundings.

"So, child, you have never been to Rohan?"

Before Kaz could answer Palma had continued talking, seeming to already know the answer.

"We are in the valley of Harrowdale. The mountains surrounding us are the White Mountains. That great peak, you see there? That peak is called _Irensaga_. You can scarcely see them from here, but the others are _Dwimorberg_ and _Starkhorn_ ," Palma's smile became rueful at that point, her eyes unfocused for a moment. "The people of Upbourn had always claimed that the three peaks were put there for a purpose—to protect the people of Harrowdale. I suppose that was foolish fantasy."

Kaz, knowing she'd never remember the strange names Palma had just uttered, nodded sympathetically. She awkwardly placed her hand on the other woman's shoulder, hoping that she came across as comforting. Kaz was never skilled at the art of consolation, often opting to escape the situation rather than endure the discomfiture she felt through the whole process. She did, however, remember how Palma had touched her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her back in the village. Kaz wanted these people to like her, after all. And to do that Kaz felt like she needed to show a little bit of feeling. _Ugh._

"Where are we going, again?" Kaz asked gently in a poorly-disguised attempt to change the subject. Palma shot her a tearful, yet grateful, smile. Kaz was relieved that her attempt to comfort the other woman didn't come across as awkward as it felt.

"Edoras," Palma replied. _Great, another name to add to my collection of gibberish._ "It is the capital of Rohan. There are a few villages in Rohan, but Edoras is by far the largest."

"Have you not heard of the Eorlingas, or the Rohirrim? The great horse lords?" Aldrich suddenly bellowed from a few paces ahead. Kaz realized he and the other two men had since slowed their step to listen in to her and Palma's conversation.

At Kaz's blank look Tompkin spoke up, eyes gleaming with unsuppressed pride. "We are the Eorlingas, the horse lords. We are known across Middle Earth for our riding skill and valor; the ruler of Gondor gifted us these lands for our greatness. You should be wise to remember that, child!"

"Ah, Tompkin, did not Cirion reward Eorl with Rohan because we came to their rescue?" Aldrich stated, his smile broad.

Tompkin waved his hand dismissively. "Yes, but our greatness was nonetheless unrivaled… and continues to be!"

 _Careful, your head might pop_ , Kaz thought drily to herself.

Aldrich just laughed; a hearty, infectious chuckle that bubbled up from his gut. Kaz noticed that most of the group smiled involuntarily as his laugh rang across the grassy plains. Kaz found herself smiling as well.

"Yes the greatness of the Eorlingasis unparalleled, have no doubt! But what of this land, Chicago? What such place has women in men's hair and men's garb?"

Her smile dropped as nine pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at her. She forced herself not to fidget under the sudden attention.

"Some women have long hair and some wear dresses," Kaz shrugged. "But lots of women have short hair and wear pants too. It's not just for men."

"And do men wear _dresses_ too?" Tompkin suddenly laughed. "Do they put ribbons in their hair?"

 _Yes_ , Kaz almost said but thought better of it. She had a feeling she wasn't going to like Tompkin much.

"Women _used_ to only wear dresses and have long hair… but then we realized how stupid that was. I mean, why _shouldn't_ women wear pants? Why _shouldn't_ they cut their hair?" Kaz argued. She couldn't believe she was actually having _this_ conversation.

Tompkin huffed in response, waving his hand as though the entire conversation was beneath him. "It is unnatural; it is simply not befitting for a woman to dress as a man."

"It's not _befitting_ for you to act like a pompous asshat, but _I'm_ not sitting here slingin' shit, am I?" Kaz replied crossly.

An ensemble of quiet gasps sounded from around her as Kaz became acutely aware that that probably hadn't been the best thing to have said.

_If these stuffy, medieval sexists get their panties in a bunch about short-haired, pants-wearing women then they might have an aneurysm at one who cusses._

Tompkin stared at her in shock for a couple of beats before his expression morphed into one of annoyed anger. Warden/Rhett eyed her tensely. She could feel the twin stares of Allard and Warden/Rhett on the back of her neck. Palma and Clothilde looked horrified at her outburst. Juliet and Aldrich, however, seemed highly amused.

"Indeed, Klara," Aldrich laughed again, reaching up to clasp Tompkin on the shoulder before the latter had a chance to retort. "The women of the Chicagos are entitled to their own appearance. If that is their way, who are we to protest?"

Kaz had a feeling that she was going to really like Aldrich.

Tompkin muttered something unintelligible under his breath but made no further comment, dissuaded by Aldrich's not-so-subtle gesture. The tension eased from Kaz's frame, her adrenaline waning somewhat. Kaz was damned if she allowed herself to be lumped in a "barefoot and pregnant" category- even in her dreams-yet she wasn't too keen on becoming a martyr for her cause.

That aside, she sincerely wished Tompkin would just take a long walk off a short pier.

"So Klara, tell me about the Chicagos. It is on an island, that much you have said. The women have short hair, wear pants, and curse like dwarves. How large is the city? Do you have horses?" Aldrich continued. It was obvious he meant to steer the conversation into safer waters. It worked.

"The city is called Chicago," Kaz replied, mulling over her words carefully before speaking. "The… er… island is called Illinois. How large is it… um…"

 _A couple million people_ , she thought. She didn't think that's what Aldrich wanted to hear, though.

"… a couple hundred people. Not very many horses, though. Cats and dogs, I guess."

"I see. I suppose an island is no place for a horse. They need grasslands, like these," he replied, stretching out his arms for emphasis. "What of your people, child? Do they sing? Are they musicians? Are they warriors?"

Kaz had to take a moment to consider that one. She thought of the loud music belting out of car stereos as they passed by McCaffery's. "We have singers and musicians, a lot of them." She thought of the war overseas; the heated discussions her regular college students often got into about the topic. "We have warriors too."

Aldrich nodded, soaking up every word. "And what of you, child? What do you do?"

What did she _do? Not an awful lot, actually._ Kaz was a terrible singer and didn't have a musical bone in her body. She didn't go to school; she just worked as a waitress at a waffle shop and jumped around a bit in the park.

"I do gymnastics," she answered finally. At Aldrich's confused look Kaz knew she needed to elaborate.

"Gym-nash-tics? What is this?"

"Here, um… it's better that I just show you."

She then smiled and held out the sword to Palma, who seemed surprised but accepted it begrudgingly. Kaz stopped for a moment, planting her feet in the grass. She felt the little tribe of people come to a slow halt around her, nine pairs of eyes regarding her curiously. Kaz grounded herself, collecting her strength in preparation.

"Aldrich, we must not stop. We must make haste-" Tompkin immediately protested, his words faltering as Kaz suddenly launched herself in the air. She curled under in a neat backflip, landing solidly on her feet again.

Kaz glanced up at the gaggle of onlookers, completely unfazed. She nearly laughed at the simultaneous expressions of awestruck wonder that stared back at her. Kaz hadn't needed her omnipotent dream powers to do a standing backflip. She remembered back in high school when she used to do them in the hallways between class periods. The looks of shock and awe she had received were identical to the ones before her now.

"That is impressive!" Aldrich said after a couple of moments. The party casually resumed their trek through the grassland. Kaz received the heavy sword from Palma. "I can see how that kind of skill can be used in battle! Or do you perform?"

"She performs, Aldrich," Tompkin cut in irritably. He was obviously still sore from the exchange earlier. "A woman of her size and stature would be easily slain in battle."

Kaz narrowed her eyes at Tompkin. Yes, she was small. But hidden muscles from parkour and gymnastics graced her body. She was strong, and she knew it. Plus she was still a little peeved at Tompkin's blatant disregard for women. Okay, a lot peeved.

Of course, from previous experience Kaz knew she was no match for the creatures that had chased her in the village. She'd be cut in half. Yet her omnipotent dream powers gave her courage she'd never had otherwise. She could scale a 12' wall with just the power in her legs-why the hell couldn't she be a warrior, too? It was _her_ dream.

"I _did_ perform, but I am a warrior," Kaz replied lowly. "I am one of the best."

Tompkin actually snorted, turning his attention back to the road before him. "I weep for Chicago, then, if _you_ are the best of its warriors," he scoffed.

 _Well, when you put it like that it_ does _sound pretty stupid,_ she thought, a little embarrassed. Klara Zachary of Chicago, warrior princess. _Right._

Kaz was, however, determined not to lose face in front of someone like Tompkin. Like she had told herself earlier, it was _her_ dream. She could be whatever the hell she wanted.

Kaz crossed her arms and glowered at the back of his head, a menagerie of insults primed in her mind.

"I'm sure Klara is a fine warrior," Aldrich said, gazing at her with warm eyes and distracting her from lashing out at Tompkin. His words were kind, but Kaz had the distinct impression that he didn't believe her either. Clothilde and Tranter had stopped paying attention to the conversation at this point. Palma, like Aldrich, didn't appear to believe her either yet maintained a polite smile. Only Juliet assessed Kaz in rapt fascination, hanging onto every word. Juliet believed her; Kaz could see it in her face. Kaz smiled at her, glad to have an ally… even if her claims were a little hokey to begin with.

Not much was said after this, a comfortable silence coming over the group as they plodded along until nightfall. As the sun descended over the mountains a wintery chill settled on the valley, and Kaz found herself clutching at the remains of her hoodie to conserve warmth. She attempted to utilize her omnipotent dream powers to conjure up a little excess body heat but that endeavor proved to be just as fruitless as materializing a better pair of shoes.

The scenery hadn't been much to look at-once you've seen one hill of grass you've seen them all-so Kaz found herself refocusing her efforts in silently cursing her ill-fitting shoes to the fiery depths of hell. She had been strongly considering tossing them in the river when Aldrich's voice cut through her thoughts. Kaz looked up and squinted at his figure; only a smidgen of sunlight peeked over the peaks, making it difficult to distinguish faces in the gloom.

"We shall camp there for tonight," Aldrich had announced, gesturing towards a smattering of pine trees clustered a few yards away, farther from the river.

The group tromped after him obediently. Kaz's mind fretted; she wondered what the heck they were supposed to sleep on. She didn't see anyone grab any blankets or pillows on the way out.

Kaz quickly got her answer as, one by one, the members of her tribe stretched out flush on the rocky earth, curling up on makeshift beds of pine needles. Allard sat down near a tree and looked up just in time to catch the look on her face-likely one of poorly disguised horror-and smiled sympathetically.

"It's only for tonight; we'll be in Edoras by mid-morning," he assured her quietly. Kaz smiled in response and settled a few paces away from him, leaving him room to lay out his bow and quiver.

_Oh yes, that's cold. The ground is super flippin' cold. And hard._

"Any chance we could maybe have a fire?" she asked him hopefully, though she already suspected the answer. Her shoes sucked and she felt like she hadn't brushed her teeth or washed her hair or clothes in two days. She had to pee but the grassland provided absolutely no cover to duck behind. It was cold and she had to sleep in the dirt. It only made sense that the lack of fire would be the cherry on top of the shit sundae. Kaz was beginning to think her "fun" dream was looking a bit more like mental purgatory.

"Not unless you want every orc within a hundred miles on top of us," Tompkin replied, voice ripe with acrimony. He turned then to discuss something quietly with Aldrich and Warden/Rhett.

No. No she didn't. But he didn't have to be an ass about it.

Yet Kaz was too tired to retort. It was far too much effort to expend energy on someone as intolerant as Tompkin. Besides, she wasn't too keen about the round of disapproving looks she was sure to get. Though slightly medieval and inherently backwards she was beginning to like these strange dream characters. Well, most of them. Well, four of them.

She simply shot a glare at the Tompkin-shaped figure in the rapidly approaching darkness and rolled over stiffly. Kaz quickly decided that any attempt at making herself comfortable on the frozen ground was futile. It was akin to trying to sleep on a chilly wooden board. With lumps.

So she just laid there, rocks and pine needles digging into her back as she gazed at the distant outline of the roaring river. Kaz stared until the darkness enveloped the group and all she could hear were the quiet, even breaths of the people around her and the faint roar of water against the rocks.

* * *

When Kaz awoke she could swear she still felt the harsh dig of the earth against her spine. It took her several moments of blinking dumbly at her ceiling to realize that she was, once again, in her bedroom.

She rubbed her eyes, pressing the curve of her palms against her eyelids as she recounted her latest adventure through her dreamscape. These dreams... they felt so _real_ that Kaz could scarcely believe it. She could distinctly recall the smell of the grass and earth as they trekked upstream; the discomfort she felt as those ill-begotten shoes ate away at her feet.

Her feet.

Kaz remembered how she had healed her feet with her omnipotent dream powers, how the skin had knit itself together and left no trace of abuse. Unfortunately, that same luxury didn't extend to her in the real world. She had neglected to treat and bandage her feet before work and hadn't checked them before going to bed. Bracing herself for a grotesque sight, Kaz drew her knee to her chest to check on the status of her left foot.

"What. The. Actual. Fuck?"

Little pink, unmarred soles stared back at her. There was no scabs, no scars, nothing but a few wayward smudges of dried blood. There was nothing to indicate why Kaz had been limping and cursing throughout her entire shift. Kaz touched the bottom of her foot gingerly with the pad of her thumb, experimentally tracing its counters. There was no pain. Aside from some ingrained calluses from wandering around barefoot all the time, her feet were unharmed.

Kaz drew up her right foot to immediately check it as well.

Nothing, just a perfectly innocent foot.

"What. The. Fuck?" she repeated.

This was crazy. Nutty. Absolute-fucking-madness. Kaz was very certain she wasn't losing her mind, and there was _no way_ in hell those cuts could have healed themselves in a matter of hours.

She remembered very clearly she had healed her feet in her dream. Could she of...?

Kaz immediately stopped that train of thought in its tracks. It was insane enough that her feet had healed themselves on their own... to imagine that her "dream" had been somehow realted to...

 _Stop,_ Kaz instructed herself firmly. _This is fucking insane. There's a very weird but reasonable explanation to this._

She groaned and shifted her legs over the bed, planting her miraculously-repaired feet on the floorboards. Kaz frowned when her feet met something soft and squishy. She looked down and saw a blood-stained bed sheet riddled with bits of flour. It came back to her then-the dresser, the trap. Kaz looked around and determined that there weren't any incriminating white foot prints to be found. The dresser that she had pushed in front of her door remained in its original position.

It didn't appear that she had wandered off anywhere last night. Hooray for small miracles.

Kaz deftly stepped over her homemade trap, peeling off clothing as she lumbered into the adjoined bathroom. Though she had changed out of her waitress uniform before going to bed the smell of fry grease and waffles had clung to her hair and skin. Kaz had been working at McCaffery's for six years now, so while she was used to the stink she knew it wasn't exactly pleasant for those who had to smell her. Jay and Erik gave her shit about it whenever she stopped by without showering.

As Kaz stripped off her tanktop and let it drop to the floor, she noticed something in the bathroom mirror that caused her to come up short. She frowned at the red mark on her outer thigh. It reached around behind her, so she turned so her back faced the mirror. Kaz craned her head over one shoulder to catch a glimpse of her naked back, uttering a quiet gasp as she laid eyes on herself.

Red marks and indents littered the plane of her back. They were, however, quickly fading. Kaz touched them gently, astonished. The marks looked... they looked as though she had slept on rocks.

Though she knew it was ridiculous, Kaz leaned forward to peer out at her bed. No rocks, just a fluffy mattress.

"What. The. Fuck?" she whispered, aware that she was beginning to sound like a broken record.

When Kaz woke up this morning her feet had been mysteriously healed, as though her omnipotent dream powers extended into the scope of reality. The state of her back indicated that she had slept on a rocky terrain, as though she had truly fell asleep on the dirt beneath the pine trees in the valley of Harrowdale.

She turned back around, twisting on the faucet to splash water into her face. The shock of cool liquid sobered her, and afterward Kaz stared at her reflection with a mixture of wonder and apprehension. Water dripped from her nose and into the sink.

_I'm going batshit crazy._


	6. Waking Up In the Veil of Starlight

"What lies behind us and what lies before us are tiny matters compared to what lies within us."

~ Ralph Waldo Emerson

* * *

He lathered on a healthy amount of cream onto his face before looking down to begin his search. Today's quest involved locating and securing his razorblade. Living with two brothers often made finding anything nearly impossible. It was his last razor, so Jay hoped that it hadn't gotten thrown away or used. Erik had a habit of using his stuff when he ran out, and razors were a hotter commodity in this household than toilet paper.

Ah-ha, there it was, tucked away in the lower cabinet between the trash can and body wash. Jay held the tool up to his face and grimaced when he spotted foreign black hairs caught between the teeth of the blade. These hairs definitely didn't come from him. To his complete dismay, Jay realized that the offending follicles were far too long and curly to come from a man's chin.

"Hey, Erik?" Jay called out, knowing that his brothers were in the next room playing video games. The sound of alien lasers and gunfire bounced off the walls.

"What?"

"Did... did you use my razor?"

There was a pause.

"Oh yeah man, sorry. I ran out."

Jay hesitated. "Did... you use my razor on your _face_?"

There was another pause.

Erik suddenly burst out laughing from the next room, immediately confirming Jay's worst fears. Without a moment to lose, Jay tossed the sullied razor into the garbage can under the sink. He wished he could toss a lit match in after it.

"That's nasty, man."

The peals of laughter only continued and soon Marcus's shrill voice joined in on the merriment. Not that Marcus was old enough to understand _what_ exactly Erik had used his razor for. Jay himself was trying to drown the information in the recesses of his mind.

Just then, over the commotion from the video game Jay caught the unmistakable beat of someone knocking on the front door. It was faint, but the steady pounding was a noticeable contrast from the chaotic gunfire and alien battle cries.

"Hey guys, there's someone at the door!" Jay called out as he scoured the bathroom for any wayward razors. He knew it would be a fruitless endeavor, but he was determined the try.

"So? Go get it!" Erik shouted back.

"Yeah, go get it!" Marcus echoed, sounding thoroughly pleased with himself.

_You've got to be kidding me._

"I just got out of the shower, you go get it!" he replied, frustrated. Erik had apparently turned down the volume on the television so the steady knocking resounded quite clearly throughout the apartment.

"I'm kicking alien ass, _you_ go get it!" he responded in that insufferable way of his.

"Yeah, _you_ go get it!" Marcus parroted. Lately it had become apparent that Marcus had chosen Erik as his older role model. It made sense; Erik was good looking, smart, muscular, played sports, was popular with the girls, and played video games incessantly with the younger boy. Therefore, Marcus delighted in playing "ganging up on Jay" with Erik without hesitation. It was a shame that Marcus wasn't old enough to realize how much of a douche Erik could be.

The hammering at the door increased in ferocity and tempo.

"They're waiting Jay, go get it!" Erik hollered.

"Go get it Jay!"

"Jay get the door!"

"There's someone at the door, Jay!"

Emitting a frustrated cry, Jay grabbed the nearest towel and burst out of the bathroom. He tripped over Erik and Marcus who, at the sight of him, exploded into hystErikal giggles. Jay was too exasperated to care, though. He marched out of the bedroom and straight up to the door, throwing it open in a dramatic thrust of his arm.

"...um."

Klara stood there looking absolutely stupefied, hand raised in mid-knock. Her own, pink locks appeared wet from a shower. As per usual, Klara hadn't bothered to put on makeup or even comb her hair. Even her sweatshirt seemed to be haphazardly tossed onto her body.

Klara met his gaze for a moment before her eyes trailed downward and then shot back up, cheeks coloring immediately.

It was at that moment that Jay realized that he was completely bare. The towel he had snatched up before stomping towards the front door turned out to be a small hand towel. He became all-too-aware of how little the hand towel left to the imagination. The unused shaving cream dripped down his neck and Jay could hear his brothers howling in laughter from the next room.

"Jay... um... you're naked."

He had fled before she uttered the "-ked."

* * *

Kaz sat perched on one of the DeFour's dining room chairs. She fidgeted nervously with one of the apples she had snagged from the centerpiece bowl, turning it over and over in her hands.

The last time she had remembered seeing that much of Jay DeFour was more than ten years ago. The sight of a naked male in general had threw her completely for a loop-the last time she remembered seeing one of _those_ was over four years ago, back in high school.

And even then it had been dark, cramped, and stuffy. She remembered that moment in senior year none-too-fondly; she had snuck out that night with the promise of a "good time." Kaz had liked the boy, and the thought of fooling around with him in the back of his mom's SUV-for some reason or another-titillated her. Instead, the night ended up with cheap booze, bad breath, sweaty skin, awkward fumbling and a plethora of shudder-worthy memories.

As she spotted Jay slink nervously from out of the bedroom-fully clothed-Kaz realized quickly that he was very likely more embarrassed by the situation than she'd ever be.

"I didn't see anything!" she suddenly blurted in an ill-conceived attempt to quell his mortification.

"Makes sense, there's nothing to see," retorted Erik. He had emerged out of the bedroom from behind Jay, all but laughing his stupid head off. Jay froze, looking very much inclined to flee again.

Kaz's eyes narrowed as she laser-focused her scowl onto the older brother.

"Shut your face, Erik."

The latter just laughed, reaching over her shoulder to snag an apple from the centerpiece as well. He flipped it up, caught it, and sank his teeth into it with a satisfying _crunch_.

"Whatever," Erik muttered from around the meat of the apple, turning back and heading towards the bedroom. He was sure to bump Jay's shoulder as he strode past him, laughing as Jay fixed him with a withering glare.

When Erik disappeared into the bedroom again, Jay turned his attention back to Kaz. Upon meeting her eyes his expression took on that familiar look of uncertainty. Seeing his hesitation, Kaz smiled and hoped she appeared nonjudgmental.

"What a dick, huh? His ass must be jealous of the amount of shit that comes out of his mouth."

Though crude, this seemed to be the correct thing to say. Jay grinned in response as he found his courage, venturing over to take the chair opposite of hers. Following her lead, he grabbed at one of the apples while Kaz finally chomped into her own.

Jay was like a brother to her, and the only thing that made her madder than the douchebags who bullied him at school is the shit he had to occasionally put up with from Erik at home. Kaz doesn't have any siblings, so she didn't completely understand the relationship Jay had between himself and his brothers. She did, however, feel like she had to defend him whenever Erik began to strut around the apartment like a testosterone-fueled peacock.

Jay was a smart kid, he didn't deserve to get pushed around. If Kaz could take a baseball bat to the kids he had to put up with at school, she would.

* * *

"It sounds like you're lucid dreaming," Jay said, leaning back against the wall of the stairwell.

They had since relocated from the apartment, instead lounging on the stairwell that led out onto the street. Through the glass door separating the apartments from the outside world, they could see a thick blanket of white coating the street and buildings. It looked as though mother nature had puffed up her cheeks and blew powdered sugar all over the city. Jay and Kaz watched as children in puffy jackets frolicked about in the snow like neon-colored bouncy balls.

Kaz had settled on a stair of her own, stretching out her legs in front of her. The tips of her toes barely grazed the other end of the staircase. She had filled the latter in on her strange dreams, emphasizing their tangibility and how she had woken up with wounds the next day.

"Lucid dreaming, huh?" she echoed. "Does that explain how I woke up with the same cuts? And how they healed when I woke up this morning?"

"Well... no," he responded, pulling out his phone. "I would think sleepwalking, like you did, but that doesn't explain how they healed all by themselves." Jay fixed her with a serious look. "Klara, how long have you been working nights? Maybe you're tired."

"I'm _not_ hallucinating," Kaz insisted, voice firm. She tore off her shoes and showed him her feet, wiggling her toes for emphasis. "You see? There's nothing there. I've got bloody bedsheets and socks back at home to prove that I'm not nuts."

His gaze flicked to her feet before back to her.

"I believe you," he responded. His voice was sincere, and Kaz had no doubt he meant what he said. She stuffed her bare feet back into her shoes, satisfied.

"Lucid dreaming and pain," Jay read, his focus on his phone. He had apparently looked up the subject. "Yes, you can feel pain in a lucid dream, but it's different than real pain. For instance if you jump off a cliff and land splat on the ground, it wouldn't necessarily hurt. Pain is often inconsistent with cause, and stopped abruptly when the dream moved on."

"Bullshit," Kaz huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. "The pain I felt in my dream definitely felt like real pain. And it only went away when I healed myself. What does it say about waking up with wounds?"

"Nothing," he replied, his brows furrowing as his thumb moved over the screen on his phone. "Oh wait, there's a blog post here about someone who wakes up with scratches and stuff after dreaming though, and it's consistent with the stuff that happens in her dream."

Kaz sat up a little straighter. "Oh? That's what happened to me, what'd they say?"

Jay was silent for several beats as he scrolled through his phone, his frown deepening. "Um... spirits, ghosts, that's what everyone that responded said. And the phenomenon that if you believe something strongly enough, it'll happen. Y'know, like you think you'll get sick and then you do get sick."

She groaned, sagging back on the banister. "Fat lot of good that does me."

_Ghosts? Yeah, right. Ghosts don't haunt dingy apartments._

"So," Jay continued, lowering his phone to look at her, "You say you can heal yourself in your dream? And when you "healed" yourself in your dream you healed in real life?"

"Yeah."

"How did you say you got those wounds to begin with?"

Kaz sighed. "I was running on the roofs of a village. There were things chasing me, um-" _what did Aldrich call them?_ "-orcs, I think. Ugly freakin' things."

Jay froze, his eyes widening as a smile spread over his face. He hit a few buttons on his phone before flipping the device over to show Kaz the screen. "Did they look like this?"

That was definitely an orc on the screen. Its beady, black gaze seemed to penetrate the screen and peer right through her. Kaz flinched back despite herself, nearly knocking the phone from her friend's grip.

"Yikes, Jay! A little warning next time, please?"

"Sorry," he replied, though he didn't sound sorry. In fact, he sounded fascinated. "What was the name of the village you were in?"

"Upbourn," she responded automatically, surprising herself in how quickly she was able to recall the information. The dream remained as clear to her as her shift at work the night before. At her answer, Jay was nearly quivering in excitement.

"And what were the names of the people traveling with you?"

Kaz relayed the information without a moment's hesitation, again surprising herself with her memory and accuracy. Jay frowned and shook his head at the names, unsatisfied. Kaz raised an eyebrow at him.

"What?" she asked. Did he know something about her dreams that she didn't?

"And where was the group going?" he continued, ignoring her question.

Kaz huffed but answered him regardless. "Rohan, I think. No wait, Edoras. Edoras is in Rohan."

She smiled, proud of herself for being able to remember so much from the gibberish Palma, Tompkin, and Aldrich had thrown at her.

Jay just sat back, arms over his chest and eyes twinkling as he regarded her smugly.

" _What_?" Kaz demanded.

"You read it."

"Read what?"

Jay frowned, confused by her response. " _The Lord of the Rings,_ of course."

 _Oh._ Kaz remembered, she had only read the first sentence. But what did that have to do with anything?

"I... haven't gotten past the first page yet," she all but muttered, studying her hands for a moment. "Why do you ask?"

A disappointed expression flickered across Jay's face before he continued.

"Then you... must've seen the movies?"

Kaz shook her head, looking at Jay as though he had spouted some nonsense. Which he had. Kaz didn't really watch television, read, or watch movies.

Jay made a little noise of confusion as he looked down at his lap, deep in thought.

"Jay?"

No answer.

Kaz reached forward to poke him square in the shoulder.

"Jay, seriously, what's wrong?" She had a fleeting worry he was going to tell her something extraordinarily awful about the content of her dreams, that she was really the spawn of Satan... or something.

"Nothing's wrong, really," he finally said, looking up to meet her eyes. "Your dreams... they just... they're in _The Lord of the Rings_ world."

There was a moment's silence as Kaz just stared at the younger boy, fully expecting him to burst into laughter and exclaim that he was just messing with her. However, Jay's expression remained devoid of humor.

"Um..." she replied hesitantly. "What do you mean?"

"Those orcs, that picture I showed you was an actor in makeup on the set of the movie. Upbourn, that's a town in Rohan, in the valley of Harrowdale. And Edoras is the capital of Rohan."

Kaz gaped at the latter as he rattled off this information. Jay sounded just like Palma in that moment, regurgitating the same gibberish in precisely the same manner. Eerily, their information was the _same_. Now Kaz recalled Edoras as the capital of Rohan, and she remembered the word 'Harrowdale' had been mentioned many times.

"You're shittin' me," Kaz finally said, staring at Jay in wonder. The latter shook his head.

"But... how is that possible? I know jack shit about that book, I only read the first sentence for cryin' out loud!"

"I don't know. Maybe it's some sort of osmosis from me?" Jay joked. Kaz just raised an eyebrow at him, unamused. Jay coughed and continued.

"But that's really cool, regardless. It'd be so awesome to dream about that. To slay orcs, to walk with the fellowship, to meet Galadriel..." Jay suddenly had a faraway look on his face.

Kaz rubbed an eye in exasperation. All of this was beginning to give her a headache. Was she really dreaming about the book Jay had given her yesterday? She couldn't recall any exposure to the novel or movie that would allow her to conjure up the wealth of detail supplied in her dream. Except, she must have learned about it somewhere. It wouldn't make any sense otherwise. Her mind helpfully supplied an image of words jumping out of the book on her nightstand and into her ear while she was asleep. Kaz immediately chased that image away.

It was official. She was out of her mind.

"I probably won't even have the dream tonight," Kaz muttered, feeling grumpy about the whole thing. She wished Jay was the one who had dreamt about burning villages and uncomfortable shoes. He certainly would've appreciated it a whole lot more.

"How many times have you had it so far?" he asked, snapping out of his mini-fantasy.

"Three," she replied reluctantly. "But that's about as many times people normally have the same dream, right? Then they go away?"

To her dismay Jay zeroed in on the screen of his phone, obviously looking up the answer to her question.

"It says here that reoccurring dreams happen because the message may be so important or powerful that it refuses to go away, that it's your mind trying to tell you something," Jay looked up to fixed her with a goofy grin. "Maybe it's your mind trying to tell you to read the book."

Kaz just rolled her eyes. That was seriously doubtful.

"-they are often triggered by a certain life situation or transitional phase in life," Jay read.

She stilled for a moment. Kaz recalled how Erik had stopped her this morning, letting her know of his intent to attend college far away. Kaz vividly remembered the despair she had felt when she considered her life thus far, her future, and the unwelcome changes occurring around her. Could this transition be causing these lucid dreams?

Kaz frowned at the thought, lunging forward to snatch the phone from the younger boy's grip.

"Hey-"

"No, look here. It says 'whatever the frequency of the dream, there is little variation in the dream content itself.' It's not a reoccurring dream, then. It's different every time. It's like... I don't know, a saga in my head. Different chapters of the same book."

She handed the phone back. Jay studied her.

"You _could_ read the book." Kaz made a face. "Or if you don't want to do that, I think one of my friends has the movies. We could watch them," Jay suggested. "It might help if you have the dream again. Y'know, to be more prepared."

"Absolutely not," she replied, shaking her head. "I've had enough of orcs and death and improper hygiene for one lifetime, thank you." Seeing it all again on a glowing screen or reading about it sounded about as delightful as sticking a sharp stick in her eye.

Jay was silent for a moment, obviously considering something in his mind. Kaz frowned at him impatiently.

"What?"

"I could... spend the night tonight? Like on the couch," Jay added hurriedly. "Just in case you have it again and get hurt or something."

Kaz opened her mouth, fully prepared to reject his offer, yet a thought made her pause. If she _was_ sleepwalking (she hadn't fully ruled that option out, despite the weird healing that occurred this morning) it would be nice to have an extra person there, if only to prevent her from strolling off the balcony. Even if she ended up dreaming about ponies and rainbows tonight, the thought of having someone watching over her was comforting.

"Okay," she agreed.

Jay had begun to wring his hands awkwardly as he awaited her response. His head snapped up when she spoke.

"Really?" he said, mouth falling open.

Kaz laughed at the incredulous expression on his face. "Yeah, it'll be like old times. When we used to have sleepovers when we were little. Are you sure you don't mind babysitting me the night before your birthday? I don't usually go to sleep till late on my days off."

Jay smiled, eyes twinkling. "Don't be stupid, of course I don't mind."

* * *

After their discussion on the stairs, Kaz and Jay wandered back to the DeFour's apartment to watch his brothers play their video game and exchange off-color jokes. As retribution for Jay's earlier plight, Kaz busied herself with pelting the back of Erik's head with random items she found about the bedroom. This onslaught distracted him enough in the versus mode to lose to Marcus many times. Badly. The latter was ecstatic.

Kaz checked the time on her phone. It was already late in the afternoon.

"Hey guys, I gotta take off," Kaz announced. Jay looked at her curiously while his brothers grunted in acknowledgement. Kaz had noticed that her dad had came and went while she was sleeping, so she expected him to be home. They had made a date for tonight, after all. She was actually much more excited about hanging out with her father than any normal 22-year-old. It seemed as though it had been ages since Kaz had legitimately spent time with her dad. Lately it seemed as though she only managed to catch quick glimpses of him as he was hurrying off.

"My dad and I are hanging out tonight," she explained, the pitch in her voice betraying her enthusiasm.

"That's cool," Erik muttered, eyes glued to the screen. Kaz pocketed her phone and rose off the bed, padding out of the bedroom. Jay mirrored her movements, falling into step behind her.

"So... did you want me to still...?"

Kaz turned to face him, worrying her bottom lip.

"Yeah, but are you sure? Seriously, I don't want to make you wait up for me. I completely forgot to tell you I'm hanging out with my dad tonight."

He just chuckled. "Klara, if you promise I'm the first one you'll tell about your dream then I don't really mind. You never get to see your dad, anyway. Just text me when you're ready to go to bed."

A smile quirked on her face. "Y'know, taken out of context this conversation seems really weird."

"Heh, yeah," he laughed awkwardly, ducking his head in response. _Is he_ embarrassed? Kaz gazed at him, confused. Jay was never one to get embarrassed about their witty banter. He refused to meet her eyes, though. A flash of annoyance bit through her at his deliberate avoidance.

"Um... okay, till later then?"

"Yeah, text me later."

 _Weirdo_.

* * *

"Dad?" Kaz called, stepping over the threshold and into her apartment.

She was instantly hit with a gust of cool air. The flippin' apartment hallway was warmer than their actual apartment. "Brrr..." Kaz drew her sweatshirt closer to herself, beginning to regret not wearing anything underneath.

"Dad?" she shouted again, kicking off her shoes and scurrying into her bedroom to locate a pair of socks before her feet froze. "This entire place is like an icebox, can I turn up the heat?"

After donning a few more essential garments, Kaz ventured over to her dad's bedroom and peeked her head into the darkness. The bedsheets were a crumpled mess, shoved up by the foot of the bed. One lone pillow lay forgotten in the center of the floor.

The pillow and bedsheets in her dad's bedroom were in the exact same position she had remembered seeing them two days ago. Which meant that her dad hadn't been bothering to sleep in his bedroom again. Kaz remembered when her mom had just packed up and left five years prior; her dad was reduced to a wreck and wasn't able to sleep in the bedroom for an entire year. Occasionally, when her dad felt stressed or overworked he would revert to this habit, camping out on the couch with a bottle of beer and PBS to lull him to sleep.

The couch, however, was currently devoid of her father. Kaz walked over to it, eyes taking in the heavy quilt draped over the back, the collection of empty glass bottles on the floor near the foot of the bed, and the head-shaped dent that had begun to form on the arm.

She heaved a heavy sigh. It was obvious she needed to talk to him again, this was becoming ridiculous.

"Budget smudget," Kaz muttered darkly to herself, scooping up the collection of beer bottles and stomping towards the kitchen.

 _If he doesn't hire someone else soon,_ I _will!_

Before she made it to the recycling bin, a knock at her door stilled her. Kaz's heart leaped. _Maybe he hadn't forgotten after all!_

She juggled her collection of bottles, groping at the lock and flinging the door open.

It wasn't her dad. Erik and Jay stood there before her, looking particularly sheepish. Jay was holding out two stacked boxes-a box of pizza and Scrabble. Erik had a twenty-four pack of beer dangling from his left hand.

Kaz stared at them in confusion. It hadn't even been ten minutes since she had left their apartment.

"So, the pizza guy just brought this for us. There's enough to share," Jay said, lifting the box in question. Him and Erik each wore twin expressions of sympathy.

"Does this count as a good apology for being a dick earlier?" Erik asked, lifting up the beer for emphasis. So Jay _had_ talked to him when she left.

Kaz just stared at the two boys for a moment, eyes threatening to well up with tears. Of course her dad wasn't going to be there; he had been making promises to her for a year now. Kaz fell for it every single time, and Erik and Jay knew that. They knew what it was like to have a parent that was never around. So, instead of asking questions, they had simply shown up with pizza and beer.

In that moment, Kaz felt immensely guilty about her reaction when Erik had told her he was going to college. She felt guilty for being selfish and self-piteous. It didn't matter what life had in store for them, the DeFour boys would always be the best friends she ever had.

"Yes," she replied with a smile.

* * *

They spent the majority of the night getting tipsy off of Mrs. DeFour's forgotten beer, making up words in Scrabble, and stuffing their faces with greasy pizza. Every so often they would take a break to walk out on the snowy balcony and watch the street. It had begun to snow again, fat puffs of frosting drifted lazily from the sky and got stuck in their eyelashes.

Jay won three games in a row before Kaz interrupted his streak with a surprising and well-timed 'XYLOPHONE.' At one point in the night Erik rolled up a snowball from the snow on the balcony and made himself a beer-flavored snow cone.

"Hey Jay," Kaz said. She had just noticed it was a minute after midnight. "Happy birthday."

"Oh yeah, bro. Happy birthday," Erik echoed sleepily.

After four games of Scrabble, an emptied twenty-four pack and a demolished pizza they had since relocated to the couch. The television glowed in the darkness and the trio stared at it sleepily. The pizza and the beer had made them all sleepy.

The show that Jay had chosen was odd, something about a talking yellow sponge with a whiny voice.

"Thanks," Jay replied.

Kaz met Erik's gaze over Jay's head. They hadn't had a moment to discuss what they were getting for Jay as a present yet. Through eye signals alone they made a date to do that later.

Erik left shortly after that, mumbling something about probably finding Marcus on Halo right where he left him. Jay turned to her with a smile, eyes half-lidded with weariness.

"So, did you still want me to stay? I could just sleep here." Jay patted the couch beneath them for emphasis. "I'll hear your dad if he comes in and I'll hear you if you come out here-I'm a light sleeper."

Kaz nodded. Jay _was_ a light sleeper, years of sleepovers had taught her that.

"Goodnight," she murmured, her own voice thick with sleep as she clamored to her feet.

She paused before venturing towards her bedroom, turning to regard the other. Jay had plucked the quilt from the foot of the bed and was busily wrapping it around himself. She met his eyes.

"Thank you, for staying," she said sincerely. "On your birthday, even. I really appreciate it."

Jay just smiled at her.

"Anytime Klara. Goodnight."

* * *

She awoke to someone shaking her roughly. Small hands gripped her shoulders with surprising strength as Kaz's head bobbed up and down with the force of jostling.

"Klara! Klara _wake up_!" a sharp, feminine voice whispered urgently over the din. Kaz could hear the sounds of snarling, weeping, and clanging metal reverberate around her. The commotion sounded eerily akin to the night in the burning village. Her eyes snapped open.

The first thing Kaz saw was Juliet, her dark locks in disarray and face flushed with adrenaline. The girl's eyes were wide and bright with terror and locked squarely onto Kaz's, startling the latter into a state of stupefaction.

"Juliet?" Kaz uttered, her voice harsh. She became all-too-aware of her prone position against the solid ground, rocks digging into the back of her hoodie. She realized that she had, once again, woken up into the same dream-right where she had left off-on the cold, hard clearing nestled between a cluster of pines.

Except that there was one key difference—Juliet was scared and people were running around behind her. Too many people. Kaz attempted to focus on the ruckus behind Juliet's head but the latter was already grabbing at her, hauling Kaz to her feet with a burst of determination.

"You sleep like the dead Klara, orcs happened upon us, we must _move_!"

"Orcs?" she echoed stupidly as Juliet dragged her along. Her feet finally caught up to her brain and she attempted to run alongside the girl, yet Juliet had her arm clutched in a vice.

 _Orcs_. It was then she saw them. It was not yet morning, the dim glow of the sun stretching only miniscule tendrils of light onto the valley. Yet it was enough to cast the orcs as malevolent, shadowy knights emerging from the twilight like boogeymen. They were bursting through the gloom and swarming the small camp, snarling and howling with slashing blades and ugly sneers.

Kaz heard screams, screams from women. She whirled her head around as she tripped along after Juliet, spotting only Aldrich amidst the mass of activity. She was seized with a sudden impulse to call out for him, yet her words died on her lips as she realized he was locked in furious combat with one of the creatures. In the moment it took for her to realize this, another orc had crept up behind the man, plunging a long, wicked blade between his shoulder blades.

She faltered at the sight and nearly tipped over. Aldrich's head snapped back, mouth falling open in a silent scream. Kaz could almost hear the sickening crackle of the remains of his spinal column as the orc jerked the blade from his body.

The murderer then turned slowly, locking eyes with her. Blood-hungry, obsidian orbs seemed to scorch through her very being, down to her soul.

Kaz didn't see Aldrich fall, as Juliet had suddenly halted in their flight. It took great command of her senses to prevent herself from tumbling into the younger girl. The grip on Kaz's wrists slackened and Kaz looked to Juliet in confusion. Yet the latter's gaze was fixated on something in front of them. Kaz followed her line of sight to rest upon a group of orcs.

Three of the grotesque monsters stood squarely in their path, eyeing the two of them with a mixture of hunger and exhilaration. Kaz felt her stomach clench with sudden fear. As it was back in the village, the dream had again become terrifyingly real. The orcs stood so close she could smell the decay on their breath and the coppery tang of blood smeared on their armor; she could even see the dark liquid as it dripped from the blades of their weapons to puddle in the dirt. The creatures were nightmares wrapped in flesh, their very auras soaked with depravity and the promise of death.

Kaz knew this was a dream-it _had_ to be a dream-yet she now feared the notion of death just as much as if this were happening on the streets of Chicago.

Juliet nudged her arm gently, capturing Kaz's attention.

"Klara, I want you to kill me," she murmured, her eyes still locked on the cluster of beasts before them. Kaz suddenly found the hilt of a heavy blade eased into her palm, hidden behind the fabric of Juliet's dress.

It took Kaz a couple beats to realize that the younger girl was being serious.

"You want me to _what_?!" Kaz hissed back. The orcs before them had begun to chitter among themselves excitedly, stealing glances at Juliet.

"Kill me," Juliet repeated, her lips hardly moving as she spoke. "You do not know this, but orcs often take the women as trophies… they use them up and then they kill them. Please, Klara."

She turned to face her then. Kaz could clearly see the whites of her eyes in the partial light.

"You look like a boy, Klara. Your death will be swift. Please understand; I do not want the fate of my mother… my sisters. Please."

Kaz saw red. She understood. Oh, she understood perfectly. Gazing into Juliet's eyes-those young eyes on a young face on a young girl that looked right at her and begged for death-Kaz's heart broke at the same time unbidden fury coursed through her very being.

She was not surprised in the slightest at this information. These hell-borne brutes seemed to be capable of any and all evils in the universe. Kaz, however, refused to be privy to this immorality. This was _her_ dream, and she refused to run a sword through a young girl when there was a perfectly foul, deserving beast not four steps away.

"No," Kaz ground out, eyes drifting over to regard the orcs advancing on them.

Juliet looked positively stricken, her expression morphing into one of acute despair. "Klara, I-"

"I _said_ no!" Kaz repeated, looking straight at the younger girl. The strength of her voice had caused the knot of orcs to pause, surprised. Kaz's hand had tightened around the soft leather at the hilt of the sword, knuckles white. There was fire in her eyes. Her body quaked in anger.

"At the count of three, I want you to get your ass moving. Run and don't look back. D'you get me?"

Juliet just nodded mutely, her face contorted in an expression of shock. Tears welled in her eyes, spilling over her cheeks. Her russet hair clung wetly to her face.

Kaz smiled at her; suddenly struck with the ridiculous hope that this wasn't that last time she was to see Juliet.

"Good," Kaz replied, turning back towards the group of orcs. They were nearly on top of them now, eyes fixated on her as they raised their weapons. The orc nearest to Juliet reached out one clawed hand, intending to snatch up the girl into its clutches.

 _No way in hell._ This was _her_ dream. This was _her_ mind. There was absolutely no way she was going to let that shit fly. Kaz summoned her strength, willing her omnipotent dream powers to make an appearance. She was going to destroy these fuckin' things. Rip them limb from limb.

Kaz experienced a feeling akin to hot water filling her up from the inside out, setting her adrenaline aflame. Kaz _felt_ powerful, she felt as though she could take on a whole army.

"THREE!" she hollered, swinging up the weapon with surprising ease and immersing it into the orc's grasping forearm. The beast howled and Juliet took off like a shot, skirts swirling behind her as she vanished into the gray of the dawn. In a burst of dark blood the orc's upper arm was suddenly _not there_. Kaz watched the severed appendage flop uselessly onto the grass. Her stomach lurched dangerously.

Did _she_ do that?

Kaz wasn't given an opportunity to dwell on the sight, as out of the corner of her eye she caught a blur of movement. With speed that surprised even herself, she twisted her sword up and forward to parry the onslaught.

Kaz warded the two orcs off with her weapon with the skill and precision of an expert fencer. She seized every open opportunity to plunge her weapon into the weak points of their armor, feeling a rush of satisfaction every time she felt her blade sink into yielding flesh.

In any normal circumstance, Kaz would have been frightened at the uncharacteristic fury and aggression that completely consumed her in this moment; not to mention the skill and precision that guided her every move. But all she could think about was these demonic, revolting creatures carrying off helpless women from the village, ravaging them before tossing them aside like used dolls.

She _knew_ this was just a dream; that her reaction was borne from fictional data; that these creatures weren't committing these unspeakable crimes against _real_ women. And yet… she had witnessed firsthand the trepidation and resolve in Juliet's eyes as she pleaded with Kaz to take her life. It was enough. The idea that Kaz alone controlled this dreamscape, that _she_ had somehow conjured these players from the recesses of her mind left her with immense guilt. This guilt fueled her rage. Her rage fueled her sword.

The one-handed orc had recuperated from his disfigurement, lunging at her with his weapon. He was too slow. She ducked and rolled between two of the orcs, jumping to her feet and slashing down at her bewildered attacker. The sharp edge of the blade tore through the creature's uncovered shoulder, slicing through flesh and cartilage. Her sword became caught on the bone, and as Kaz struggled to dislodge it the second orc seized the opportunity to rush her.

Kaz dodged, abandoning her weapon in the shoulder of the beast and tumbling on the ground to avoid her attacker. He swung again at her again and missed her face with inches to spare.

 _They're scary, but they move like slugs,_ Kaz thought smugly, jumping to her feet. Her confidence heighted as she and her attacker circled one another. The third orc had since run off, most likely spotting more appealing prey. The orc she had dismembered was making quite a ruckus, shrieking and attempting to clutch at the blade lodged in its shoulder. It was just beyond its reach, though. The sight gave Kaz a sick sense of satisfaction.

She wiggled her empty fingers. Kaz had no doubt she could dodge the orc, no matter how he attempted to attack her. She was wondering whether to go for her original weapon again when suddenly an arrow embedded itself into the side of her attacker's head. The beast's expression was frozen into one of permanent surprise as it promptly toppled to the ground, dead before its body hit the grass.

Kaz blinked at the prone form before her before turning to seek out the source of arrow. The sun had risen higher above the bluffs, cutting through the shadowy gray of the morning. She saw them then, blonde men on horseback pounding purposefully towards the clearing. They were yelling and hooting, expertly flinging arrows from sleek bows into the writhing mass of orcs around her.

Kaz looked around, watching dark bodies tumble to the earth, peppered with shafts. Allard came into view as orcs dropped around him. He was a mess-blood seeped from wounds on his head and arms-but he was alive. He met her eyes then, expression flickering in relief for a moment before melting into horror.

She frowned at his reaction, attempting to take a step towards him before realizing quickly she was pinned in place. Her body had gone numb, and her legs threatened to buckle from beneath her.

_What?_

Kaz looked down at her feet, her eyes taking in the crimson-soaked blade which protruded neatly from her gut.

_Oh._

Upon seeing the injury, the pain hit her suddenly, like a heavy blow. A defeating ringing noise exploded in her ears, drowning out the commotion around her. She saw the blurry outline of Allard rushing towards her, eyes wild and a determined set to his jaw. Someone was screaming her name. Her legs gave out, the strength in her body evaporating as quickly as someone snuffing out a candle.

She numbly felt her knees ricochet against the dirt. She didn't feel it when her torso pitched forward and she collapsed fully on the ground. Her eyes were still open as she laid there, staring blankly. The last thing Kaz saw was Allard's feet before she completely blacked out.

* * *

Kaz woke up screaming.


	7. Fair Ladies Bathed in White Sunlight

"Water is fluid, soft, and yielding. But water will wear away rock, which is rigid and cannot yield. As a rule, whatever is fluid, soft, and yielding will overcome whatever is rigid and hard. This is another paradox: what is soft is strong."

\- Lao-Tzu

* * *

A fuzzy, dark shape clouded her vision. As it loomed closer, the distinct lines of Jay's angular face swam into her vision. His expression was stricken in terror and he was shouting at her- _was he calling her name?_ -but someone was screaming and Kaz couldn't hear him.

It took her a couple of heartbeats to realize _she_ was the one screaming. It took her a few more to register the pain. It bubbled up her chest-through her arms and down her legs-spreading tendrils of molten pain like fiery fingers reaching from her core. Her body was a livewire, trembling from the force of the sensation. Hot tears burned the corners of her eyes and all the way down her face. Her ears had begun to ring again, nearly drowning out the sound of her own shrieking.

Kaz realized she was hugging herself securely around the middle, pressing into her as though they intended to keep her guts from bursting out. She craned her neck, ignoring the sharp twinge of pain in her abdomen as she peered down her body in an attempt to discern the source of her agony.

She immediately regretted doing so.

Her arms were soaked in crimson blood where they fastened securely around her belly. Trickles of fresh scarlet seeped from underneath her elbows, pooling into dark stains on the mattress. _I'm just wrecking my bed lately_ , she thought suddenly, hysterically.

Kaz whimpered hoarsely, peeling her arms from her middle to catch a glimpse of the sight beneath. The sight of a raw, gaping wound greeted her… in the precise location where the blade from her dreams had slipped into her skin. Every small movement caused dark blood to froth up from the wound. Her throat went dry, her shaking intensified as she fought a losing battle to suppress her panic.

She remembered Jay suddenly, eyes raking around her bedroom in an attempt to locate the other. Her vision began to blur around the edges; her mind became foggy as her benumbed body began to shut down.

"J-Jay…" she gurgled, unable to summon enough air into her lungs to conjure anything louder than a whisper.

As though he had heard her, the fuzzy outline of Jay poured into the bedroom and approached her so quickly it made her dizzy. She watched, fascinated, as the cloudy outline of his mouth moved. He was speaking to her, gesticulating wildly with his hands, yet the ringing in her ears effectively drowned out his words.

Kaz just smiled, albeit goofily, back at him. Her tongue seemed to be fashioned of lead and completely incapable of forming coherent words. She experienced an alarming feeling of disconnect from her own body; it began to feel heavy and waterlogged, as though a small army of cats were sitting on her chest.

The excruciating pain that consumed her senses slowly rescinded to an unpleasant ache. Her eyes rolled back into her head and Kaz succumbed to blissful unconsciousness, eager to escape the misery of this reality.

The pain was back when she awoke. If her mouth hadn't felt as though it were stuffed with cotton, Kaz would have erupted in a litany of curses. An icy wind whipped around her face, sending strands of loose hair tickling across her features and numbing her cheeks and nose. The back of her head was pressed against soft leather, shifting against the material as her body swayed in time to the movement around her.

The motion jarred through her body. One-two-three-four one-two-three-four. Every beat sent a small explosion of pain ricocheting through her, originating from her abdomen. Kaz's eyes flickered open, though she immediately shut them as landscape whizzed by in a blur of greens and yellows. Sudden nausea rocketed through her and Kaz could taste bile in the back of her throat.

 _I'm on a horse_ , Kaz thought as her brain finally fit the pieces together. She then realized that she was curled on the front of the horse, held securely in place by its rider. Kaz chanced opening her eyes once more, tilting her head to squint blearily at the face of the rider.

A blonde, bearded man met her gaze, grey-brown eyes full of anxiety. His long, wavy hair hurtled behind him in a curtain of gold, causing Kaz to wonder absently just how fast they were going. Sunlight glinted off the scales of his armor and the sheen of his hair.

"Hold on son, we approach Edoras," the man informed her urgently.

A flash of annoyance at the mistaken gender fluttered through her yet was quickly squelched as a particularly awful surge of pain erupted from her midsection, momentarily obliterating her train of thought. Kaz squeezed her eyes shut and focused on her breathing in an attempt to stifle the nausea and pain that roared through her each time the horse's hooves connected with the earth.

_I can't escape it… even in my dreams… what… the… fuck…_

Kaz felt herself begin to black out again, the whole of her reality becoming fuzzy around the edges. Her body, like in the real world, vehemently rejected the amount of misery it was subjected to and sought to escape. Kaz willingly followed it into a rapturous reprieve, managing only to squeeze out one last, fleeting thought before darkness consumed her once more.

_Heal…_

Someone was yelling her name.

Kaz opened her eyes.

She blinked as she saw… nothing.

She stared out into the blackness for a moment, gathering her senses. Kaz was lying on her stomach, cheek pressed flush to a cool surface. It felt like slippery-like marble-but grooved-like polished wood-at the same time. Silence had settled around her, the air stale with nullity.

Kaz shifted, expecting to feel a pulse of pain reverberate from her stomach, yet was pleasantly surprised when none came. She scrambled to all fours, looking down to assess herself. The darkness, however, was absolute and completely obscured her vision. She could not see herself.

Kaz groped at her stomach, feeling nothing but the soft material of her hoodie and the smooth, unmarred skin beneath. She breathed a sigh of relief.

She then looked around but found nothing but total blackness. She raised a hand to her face-not even a centimeter away from her nose-and wiggled the digits in front of her eyes.

Nothing. Not even a shred of motion to betray their movement. The blackness consumed her vision.

Gooseflesh appeared on her skin as fear began to stir in her heart. _Am I… am I_ dead?

She remembered the inferno of crippling pain she had experienced. She remembered how alight her nerves had been from the sensation. The contrast from that to how she felt now seemed almost hilarious… yet frightening.

Suddenly, Kaz had an unnerving sensation she was being watched. She crossed her arms over herself protectively, hugging herself tight. Gooseflesh pricked over her arms and on the back of her neck.

She considered calling out, yet fear killed the words in her throat. Kaz began to shuffle forward warily, the total darkness making her furiously self-conscious.

There was her name again. It sang out from the dark, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Kaz couldn't pinpoint whether it was an old or young voice, male or female, happy or sad.

"Hello?" Kaz called back hesitantly, her voice sounding small and feeble in the black. She was all-too-aware that fear had wormed its way into her tone. She whipped her head back and forth, hoping to catch something, _anything_ that moved in the darkness… yet at the same time afraid to.

"Hello? Am I dead?" she tried again, yet her words came out in a hoarse squeak. _Is this what 'dead' feels like? No heaven… no hell… nothing?_

She felt something next to her. She couldn't explain it. There was no disturbance in the air, nothing to betray the presence of another, but she knew something was there. She _knew_ …

Kaz shrank back automatically, scuttling backward. Upon stopping she simply hovered for what seemed like eons, heart hammering in her chest. It took her three times to clear the sudden frog in her throat before she was able to speak once more.

"I-Is… is someone there?"

The silence that followed was suffocating. The presence from before didn't seem to move or respond, yet evoked a deep-set panic within her. Suddenly Kaz found it hard to breathe, and sudden dizziness had her struggling to remain upright. She felt the wetness on her cheeks before she realized she was crying.

Someone, _something_ suddenly gripped her shoulders in bruising force. Adrenaline blazed through her in response and Kaz lashed blindly out at her offender with a shrill scream.

She heard her name again-a female's voice; young, urgent-but she would not be deterred. Kaz punched and kicked at her attacker, hollering obscenities in their general direction. She started in surprise when she felt her fist connect solidly with the soft yield of skin. A grunt of pain. The grip on her shoulders loosened.

Kaz paused, her fists still raised in anticipation. She blinked once, twice, and then a blinding light flooded her senses.

Kaz yelped, throwing her palms over her eyes as brightness invaded her senses. Persistent light peeked through the cracks in her eyelids.

In a dizzying realization Kaz realized that she was lying on her back on a lumpy, yet soft surface. She felt the light awash on her face and arms. Though at first startling, the warmth felt nice.

"Miss Klara?"

Kaz groaned at the sound of her name again, but her brain helpfully reminded her that she _knew_ that soft, feminine voice.

"Juliet?" Kaz croaked, spreading her fingers and peeping through her hands. Again she was blinded by the onslaught of light, yet her vision cleared rapidly in a couple furious blinks. She met the dark, familiar gaze of Juliet immediately.

The girl's face was smeared with dirt, only interrupted by the dried paths that tears had made down her cheeks. Her russet locks were tousled-even more than they were before-one side matted to her head with a smear of dark blood. Her skirts were tattered and dirty, the ends looking as though she had dragged them through many mud puddles.

Kaz had never been so glad to see another person in her life. She dropped her hands, a crooked smile spreading across her face. Juliet uttered a choked half-sob, rushing up to Kaz and all-but-falling into her arms. Kaz felt the soft puff of the girl's breath on her neck.

"I-I thought you were dead!" Juliet sobbed, tumbling over her words. She had started crying, tears spilling over her cheeks and onto the soft cotton of Kaz's hoodie. Kaz didn't care in the slightest, only hugging the girl closer.

Kaz's experience in the darkness had absolutely terrified her. Hugging another person-with sunlight on her face, no less-comforted her far more than she would care to admit.

Someone clucked their tongue disapprovingly and work-christened hands appeared and shooed Juliet off of Kaz.

"Off my patient you silly girl, she is not healed quite yet."

Juliet withdrew reluctantly, stepping back with a sheepish look on her face. Her smile was unfaltering, however, as she gazed at Kaz with an expression full of relief and awe.

Kaz lowered her arms as well, turning her head to take in the other occupants in the room.

The person who had reprimanded Juliet was a curvaceous older woman. Like Juliet, she was swathed in plain skirts and an apron. A piece of material kept her long, greying hair out of her face. Like basically everyone else Kaz had met in the strange world, the woman's features were largely Anglo-Saxon with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a tall-albeit hunched due to age-stature.

Another, younger woman stood near the back of the small room, closest to the door. She was older than Kaz and Juliet, appearing as though in her mid to late-twenties. She was slim with pale features and sharp grey eyes. Her hair was parted in the middle, golden locks cascading down her back in gentle waves. Thick braids fell on either side of her face. Her attire, consisting of soft cotton and crushed velvet, seemed more elegant than any of the women's' Kaz had met so far. The woman was studying Kaz with poorly-disguised interest.

Kaz herself was lying on a mattress-stuffed with hay, it seemed-in a small room. Scratchy-looking blankets were bunched up around her feet and tangled up her ankles. Two rickety nightstands were positioned on either side of the bed. A lone stool stood at attention next to Juliet. Large windows stretched along the wall to her left, bathing the room thoroughly with sunlight. The walls and floor were plain, fashioned from sanded dark wood. A green rug splashed out on the floor, the only evidence of color in the entire room.

Kaz fidgeted nervously under the weight of the woman's stare, shifting her gaze between Juliet and the older woman. Not sure who to address, Kaz simply spoke to the room.

"Um… what happened?"

Juliet chanced a look at the older woman, who ignored Kaz's question and continued to bustle around. She seemed to be gathering up medical supplies in her arms, depositing them into a container on the nightstand.

"We were attacked by orcs," Juliet blurted, taking the older woman's silence as permission to speak. "I chanced a look behind me when I ran, you fought brilliantly Miss Klara. Fortunately a patrol of Rohirrim heard the commotion and came to our rescue. You were wounded so they took you back to Edoras. You were… unconscious for two days."

"Two days?!" Kaz gasped, bolting upright. A sharp twinge of pain in her gut sent her back down again, clutching her gut with a moan. Her heart sank in dismay—was there still a gaping hole in her stomach?

Kaz looked down, flinching when she caught sight of the state of her hoodie. There was a fist-sized hole in the front of her hoodie surrounded by a large, macabre blood stain that ran all the way down her hoodie and up her chests. It looked as though someone had taken a paint bucket full of red paint and lobbed its entire contents at her stomach.

Kaz sucked in a breath and bravely lifted the hem of her hoodie up to appraise the damage, blinking instead at fresh gauze wrapped securely around her belly.

"No sudden movements!" the woman chastised, waggling a finger at her impatiently. "You heal well but you're no Béma!"

It was then Kaz realized that the woman was her doctor. She probably should have realized this earlier, when she had referred to Kaz as her 'patient,' but Kaz was slow in regaining her bearings. This shouldn't come as a surprise to her, because apparently she'd been unconscious for two whole days. She wondered how that amount of time translated in the real world.

The woman gathered up the remaining medical supplies with a huff, pausing to fix Kaz with a stern look.

"No sudden movements. I will be back in a couple hours to change your bandages."

"Yes m'am," Kaz acknowledged, a little daunted by the woman's steely tone.

The doctor, however, had already turned her back. Supplies in hand, she headed towards the door, pausing only nod and murmur a "m'lady" to the woman camped out by the door. The younger woman's head inclined slightly in acknowledgement, yet her eyes never left Kaz.

As the door clicked shut, the woman made her way towards Juliet and Kaz. Her eyes betrayed no indication of her intentions. She looked at Juliet, who, like Kaz, fidgeted under the sudden attention. The woman's words, however, were gentle.

"Go, child. Bathe and see to your people. They will want to hear news of Klara's awakening."

Juliet nodded, chancing a final look at Kaz before dropping into a neat curtsey. "Yes, my lady." She then hurried out the door. Kaz wanted to yell at her to come back, that she didn't want to be alone with this strange woman, but Juliet was gone before Kaz had a chance to summon the nerve.

_Wait a minute… her 'people?'_

Does that mean that there were those from their group that were still alive? Kaz thought of Aldrich, of how that orc had buried its sword into the flesh of his back. In her mind's eye Kaz could still recall how his body had jerked forward; that shocked expression that was now permanently frozen on his face was etched into her memory.

Kaz thought of the sparkling dark eyes of Tranter as he had first gazed up at her. She thought of the gratitude the beautiful, shy Clothilde had expressed to her for rescuing them from the orcs on her first night in this strange dream world. She thought of Palma's complete lack of hesitance in trusting Kaz, how the lines around her eyes would crinkle as she smiled. She thought of Allard, and how he had run at her as the orc's blade had disappeared into her body. She thought of Warden/Rhett, and actually felt remorse for never remembering who was who.

She even thought of that proud asshole Tompkin, with his mocking smile she just wanted to rip off his face and stamp in the dirt. He wasn't her favorite figment of imagination, but she didn't think she'd be totally disappointed to see him alive.

"Who else made it? From my group?" Kaz exclaimed urgently. She bent at the waist again-slowly this time-and eased herself into a sitting position.

The woman raised an eyebrow at her, surprised at her sudden statement. "You are not from Upbourn, yet you have an affinity for these people."

Someone from her group must have informed them of Kaz's exotic background. Not that it was hard to determine that from simply looking at her. If all of Edoras consisted of tall, blue-eyed blondes-which it is turning out to look like-then Kaz is going to stick out like a sore thumb.

"They… took me in," Kaz replied, recalling the undeterred kindness of Palma and Aldrich with a pang. "They didn't have to."

The woman nodded, accepting her answer.

"So tell me, do all women of your land know how to fight as you do? Do they all heal as you do?"

"Heal?" Kaz echoed dumbly. She curled one arm around her waist protectively.

"You suffered a wound you should never have recovered from," the woman continued, her grey eyes glittering as she scrutinized Kaz. "My brother was foolish to attempt to save you, yet here you are."

_Brother?_

In a flash, Kaz remembered the blonde, bearded rider that she had woken up to on the horse, the one who had confused her for a boy and urged her to hold on. Was this his sister?

Kaz glanced down at her bandaged stomach in confusion. She remembered the pain, the agony she had suffered at the result of the orc's wicked blade. She remembered waking up- _oh god Jay…_

She recalled waking up with bloody feet after dreaming about running across rooftops in this weird, backwards world. Had that happened again? Was she sitting in a hospital bed right now… or a coffin? Vivid images of blood soaking through her clothes and mattress popped up in her mind, making her sick to her stomach.

The woman, seeming to sense that Kaz was losing herself to her own thoughts, interjected sharply.

"The orc blade was poisoned, yet the poison simply seeped out of your belly upon your arrival. Your flesh knit together in mere moments. All that remains is a simple slash, a mere nick! Are you a witch? A sorcerer?"

"No, I…" Kaz muttered distractedly. "I… I'm not. I just heal fast."

The woman stared at her, unconvinced. Any further interrogation was halted, however, as the heavy door to the bedroom was opened with a click. A familiar man took a few steps into the room, meeting Kaz's gaze before turning towards the woman.

Kaz recognized him as her savior in this world, this woman's brother. He looked different without his armor, clothed instead in a light tunic and dark pants, yet it was him nonetheless. He sported a fresh, blossoming bruise on his right cheek. Kaz wondered at it as she smiled in his direction, hoping her affection was conveyed appropriately in her expression.

"Éowyn, Théoden would like to see the girl in the Golden Hall," the man said directly to the blonde woman.

"You mean _Wormtongue_ would like to see her," the woman, _Éowyn_ snapped irritably. She lifted her chin to stare directly at her brother. "The girl is not fully healed."

" _The girl_ is sitting right here," Kaz snapped irritably. She was already grumpy from not knowing what was going on in the real world, and the way the blondes were speaking about her as if she wasn't there got on her nerves.

The siblings turned to stare at her in surprise, momentarily taken off guard from her outburst. In only a moment, however, small smiles adorned each of their faces. The man seemed amused, while Éowyn's smile appeared… fond?

"Forgive me m'lady, I have forgotten my manners," the man apologized, inclining his head in a neat bow in her direction. "It pleases me that you are well and on your path to recovery."

Kaz uttered a small, satisfied "harrumph" in response. She was surprised and embarrassed by the sudden chivalry, yet a part of her was secretly pleased.

The man turned back to his sister, his look becoming serious.

"Regardless of whom, Miss Klara's presence is requested in the Golden Hall," the man stated with finality, nodding at Kaz. "M'lady."

He then took his leave, disappearing back behind the door. Kaz looked at Éowyn, who appeared troubled.

"Who's Théoden?" Kaz asked her. She wished Jay were here, she was sure _he_ could rattle off the names and ranks of all the people in this world.

"The King of Rohan," the woman responded.

"Oh."

Éowyn had left, giving Kaz a few minutes to collect herself before promising to escort her to this 'Golden Hall.' The thought of a 'Golden Hall' gave Kaz a very weird mental image of an entire throne room swathed entirely in gold, complete with golden utensils and napkin holders. She wondered absently if they had napkin holders in Middle Earth.

_Middle Earth. Ugh._

Kaz flopped back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh, throwing her arms over her face. Her stomach ached in protest of her actions, yet she ignored it. Kaz attempted to reconstruct her memories from these last couple of days ( _days? Really?_ ), pulling together the foggy bits and trying to make sense of them.

She remembered Jay and Erik coming over and hanging out. She remembered that Erik had gone home while Jay slept over on the couch. She remembered being "woken up" by Juliet shaking her roughly. She remembered summoning her omnipotent dream powers and laying into those orcs before getting distracted and getting stabbed.

She clearly remembered passing out in this world and waking up in the real world to Jay's worried face. Then she must've passed out again, because she's back in Middle Earth.

_What's going on the real world right now?_

Kaz had a thought suddenly that she had died that morning in her bedroom-on Jay's fucking _birthday_ -and that she was destined to live out the rest of her existence in this sexist, medieval dream world.

The thought made her shudder.

She thought back to the last couple of times she had found herself in this backwards dream state. Her presence seemed to correlate with when she went to sleep—in either world. When she fell asleep against that tree trunk after fleeing from the burning village, and again when she had managed to fall asleep upon the cold, rocky ground in the field.

Kaz wondered if that would happen again if she attempted to fall asleep in this bed. Her body and mind, however, were completely charged. She doubted she'd be able to doze off before Éowyn came back for her. She wasn't sure she really wanted to go back to the real world quite yet, anyway.

Kaz was afraid of what she'd find.

After a moment's consideration, Kaz struggled to her feet. Her wound complained annoyingly, and Kaz paused to glower down at it.

_Fuck you. Heal._

And it did. Of course, Kaz couldn't tell due to the concealment of the bandages, but when she prodded the wound experimentally there was no indication of pain. She used her nails to tear open the gauze, peeling away the cloth to expose her belly and smooth, olive skin. Even that freckle by her bellybutton had resurfaced. She had never been so happy to see that freckle in her life.

Kaz wadded up the soiled bandages and-not seeing any other sensible option-stuffed the bundle under her bed. The stern doctor from earlier would discover the truth eventually, but if hiding the evidence helped to defer the accusations of her being a witch Kaz was all for it.

At the thought, her brain helpfully supplied information about the Salem Witch Trials in Massachusetts they had learned about in her high school history class, complete with the gory depictions of women wiggling on the ends of nooses. She swallowed hard, praying that this day wouldn't end with her being chased out of town by torches and pitchforks.

"Miss Klara, are you ready?" Éowyn's voice questioned through the thick wood of the door.

_Crap. That wasn't a couple minutes, that was like two seconds!_

"Um… just a moment!" Kaz floundered, searching around the room for any evidence of a mirror of some sort. Her hands reached up to flatten her hair in a vain attempt to look presentable, when a thought made her freeze. _My beanie!_ She dashed around the room, yet this seemed to be the only article of clothing that had gone missing from her person.

So Éowyn had seen her with her short pink hair. So had everyone else, apparently. Those torches and pitchforks were beginning to take real shape in her mind.

Kaz recalled how Tompkin's eyes had glowed in pride when he spoke of the people of Rohan, and that howshewas going to meet with its _King._ Yet, there didn't seem to be any evidence of a mirror of any kind, so Kaz gave up. They're just going to have to deal with the fact she looked like she just staggered out of a horror movie.

She was already a complete mystery to these people, what would it hurt being an unkempt mystery at that? She didn't much care about impressing anyone, especially a figment of her imagination, when there might be a very real danger she was lying on a hospital bed-or worse-in the real world.

"I'm ready," Kaz called, futilely smoothing out the wrinkles of her soiled cargo pants.

Éowyn opened the door, giving her a look that made Kaz fight not to squirm. A curtain of dark brown cloth was draped over her arm.

"I searched the Healer's Houses, but could not locate attire that would fit your stature at such short notice," Éowyn told her, her tone apologetic.

Kaz just blinked in surprise at the woman. She hadn't really expected much hospitality towards her to begin with—the thought of asking for fresh clothes from anyone hadn't even occurred to her.

Éowyn raised her arm, offering the dark cloth towards Kaz.

"I have a cloak for you to use, instead. Éomer has advised me that it would be wise to keep the hood up to hide the hue of your hair. Ever since the wizard arrived last week, speaking of foul things from the east, the people have been wary of outsiders."

 _But not you?_ Kaz thought suspiciously, accepting the fabric from Éowyn's outstretched arm. The mention of a 'wizard,' however, gave her hope. If there's a guy running around doing magickey things, then maybe her omnipotent dream powers won't seem so farfetched.

Kaz struggled with the material for a full minute before the older woman relented and helped her, showing her how the ties in the front worked to fashion a large hood. The cloak felt heavy on her and Kaz had to lift up the hem to keep the material from dragging on the floor. The hood basically concealed her whole face and Kaz wondered if the only thing any passerby would see from her would be the whites of her eyes peering out. Perhaps Éowyn wanted it that way.

"Thank you," Kaz murmured as the two women managed to dress her correctly. She wondered if she'd ever change out of her pants and ruined hoodie, if all clothing in this strange world was this complicated to get on.

Éowyn beckoned for Kaz to follow her and the latter shuffled out after the taller woman as quickly as she could. She had once watched the first Star Wars movie with her dad when she was little, and she remembered the little cloaked figures in the desert that had kidnapped the droids and attempted to sell them for scrap. _Jawas, I think they're called?_ At any rate, Kaz felt very much like one of those little guys.

"Hey… Éowyn? Is Éomer the guy that was just here?" Kaz asked the woman's back. The names 'Éowyn' and 'Éomer' sounded similar enough; it wouldn't be too far of a stretch to assume they may be the siblings.

Kaz kept her voice low as she spoke. The hallways they were navigating seemed so quiet it seemed rude to speak above a whisper.

"Yes," she replied after a moment's hesitation, "He is also the one you struck while in fitful sleep."

Kaz drew to a halt, eyes wide. She recalled the purpling bruise blossoming on the man's cheek. Did _she_ do that? She remembered lashing out at something in her dreams, yet she never thought she'd ever possess the strength to ever lay a bruise of that magnitude on someone else… much less a full-grown man.

_Fuckin' omnipotent dream powers._

"Keep up," Éowyn chastised, yet there was a smile in her voice. Kaz hastily scurried after the woman, hiking up the hem of the cloak to prevent herself from falling flat on her face.

"Please tell Éomer I'm sorry," Kaz flustered when she caught up. The man _was_ the one who had rescued her, after all. Dragged her bleeding butt all the way to Edoras. And then she repaid him by punching him in the face and snapping at him. At this rate, it'd be a wonder if she wasn't chased out of the city solely for being tactless.

Éowyn didn't respond aloud. They had reached a high set of double doors. Kaz could hear the laughing of people and the whinnying of horses beyond, so she assumed that it led out into the city. The flaxen-haired woman looked at her then, quirking an eyebrow and raising a single digit to her lips.

So Éowyn wanted her to be quiet. Okay.

Éowyn then turned and shoved against the door, pushing open the heavy wooden thing. Sunlight streamed into the hallway, momentarily blinding the two of them. Éowyn turned to smile at Kaz, the sunlight lighting up her hair and creating a stunning halo-effect.

"Welcome to Edoras, Miss Klara."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FYI -- the date in Middle Earth is currently September 26th, 3018 in this chapter, three days after Gandalf left Edoras.


	8. The Solemn Gloom of the Golden Hall

"Courage is not the absence of fear, but rather the judgment that something else is more important than fear."

-Unknown

* * *

Kaz followed the line of Éowyn's outstretched hand, gazing upon Edoras with fascination.

Like Upbourn, Edoras had been constructed atop a hill. From their vantage point, Kaz could see the rooftops of dwellings leading down the hill like toppling dominos. A tall, thick wooden wall-much bigger than the wall of Upbourn-encircled Edoras, separating the city from the world beyond.

A large expanse of grassland stretched out beyond the barricade, leading onward until it was out of sight. She noted the white and blue peaks of mountains in the distance, barely perceivable amidst the cover of clouds.

Kaz wondered if the grassland before them was Harrowdale, the same valley from which she and the Upbourn survivors had come. It was very likely, for she thought she recalled Aldrich or Palma saying something about how Edoras lay at the very end of the valley.

Villagers in long, dark clothing bustled past them, some leading horses and others herding children. An old woman in a dark dress looked up from sweeping her front porch, staring at the Kaz-shaped cloak as though her curious, beady eyes could peer right through it. A man who had been speaking to the woman, most likely her husband, stopped in mid-sentence to follow her gaze.

One by one the villagers halted what they were doing to stare directly at Kaz. It was eerie, the way they appraised her in somber silence. No yelling, no running, no speaking in hushed tones behind raised hands. It made her want to turn tail and flee back inside the relative safety of the Healing Houses.

Kaz hugged the shapeless, heavy thing more closely around herself. Though she needn't of bothered—the garment already succeeded in masquerading her form completely.

A gentle hand on her back made her jump. Yet it was only Éowyn, silently easing her forward. The woman made sure that Kaz was at her heels before she guided her into the capital.

Kaz felt eyes like burning embers on her skin as she plodded along behind the woman. She wondered what all they had heard about her. Likely they had heard of her pink hair and omnipotent dream powers. Maybe they have even heard of this wacky, unbelievable place from where had traveled with her fake family. Who knows? She might even have two heads and can breathe fire. Or she has bat wings. Or a tail.

As she carefully stepped over a line of chickens, a pair of little boots entered her line of sight. Kaz blinked and looked up, meeting the gaze of a wide-eyed little boy. He was about Tranter's age, with big blue eyes that goggled at her.

Kaz, not knowing what else to do, stopped and offered the boy a smile and a little wave. The corners of the boy's lips quirked in the beginnings of a smile before he was suddenly lurched from Kaz's vision. She lifted her head to watch a woman- _his mother?_ \- seize the boy by the hand and drag him away in a flurry of activity.

Kaz watched them go for a half-second before hurrying to keep pace with Éowyn. _Probably for the best, I was about to suck out that little boy's soul from his eardrums anyway_ , Kaz thought drily to herself.

She thought of little Tranter, hoping that he had made it in the fray. Common sense screamed no, but her faith held fast.

Éowyn took a sharp turn and began to trudge up the mountainous pathway, headed towards the high point on the massive hill. Kaz caught a glimpse of a cluster of large buildings seated upon the hill and figured that's where they were headed. She stumbled and gasped in her attempt to keep up with the lithe woman, the cloak suffocating and hot and feeling as though it weighed a metric ton.

There was a slight bite in the air but it did nothing to quell the heat from her exertion. When they had finally succeeded in hiking up the top of the hill, Kaz's pink locks were stuck to her forehead and her ruined clothing seemed to be glued to her body. On top of everything else, Kaz was going to be meeting the King as a sweaty, flushed mess.

"You _really_ don't want me to make a good impression, do you?" Kaz grouched unhappily, pausing for a moment to catch her breath. She barely resisted the urge to rip the cloak from her body and launch it down the hill. With the torrents of wind rising from the valley of Harrowdale, Kaz wondered what sort of distance the cloak would make.

Éowyn shushed her, continuing onward until she realized that her little Jawa was no longer following her. The woman turned, one blonde eyebrow arching in question. She took a few steps back, closing the distance between herself and Kaz.

"Miss Klara, please we must make haste. The King is expecting you."

Why was Éowyn so eager to get her to the Golden Hall, anyway? Kaz looked like she'd been through hell. Like a car ran over her and backed up again a couple hundred times. On top of this, her hair was the color of Pepto-Bismol and her clothes-or what was left of them, anyway-contrasted so starkly with everyone else's it was like she showed up to a funeral in a bathing suit.

Despite this, Éowyn seemed almost impatient to parade her in front of the King of her fuckin' city. Why? What did the woman have to gain from her freak show other than public ridicule?

Or maybe everyone in this dreamscape was just as nutty as Kaz. God help them.

"Excuse me if I'm not eager to get stared at like a freak again," Kaz said instead, catching the gaze of a farmer as he passed by the women. His stare distracted him to the point where he nearly crashed into a horse-drawn cart, sending his basket of produce flying every which way. "Well, more than I am already, anyway."

Éowyn's gaze softened at her admission. It was at that moment that Kaz realized Éowyn was on that very, _very_ short list of people that hadn't yet looked at her as if she was a wolf in sheep's clothing. Her exchange with Kaz had always been borne of curiosity, never trepidation. Kaz suddenly felt guilty for her words.

"You misunderstand my intentions, Miss Klara. You are unlike any woman I have ever met. You are unlike any woman this entire city has ever met," Éowyn told her, her tone hushed but soothing. "This 'Chicago' must be quite a place, to develop women with such skill and strength of character."

A flush burned across Kaz's cheeks, and this time it had nothing to do with their trek up the small mountain. Praise was certainly the last thing she expected to hear from the other woman. It was as if Éowyn _admired_ her. But that was just silly… wasn't it?

"I intend for King Théoden to bear witness to the skill and resolve of Chicagoean women. I believe all of Rohan would benefit from the ways of the Chicagos."

 _Oh._ So that was it, then. Éowyn wanted brownie points for her sex. Despite herself, Kaz immediately liked the blonde woman. She wondered what sort of animosity most other women had to bear in this world. At the memory of Tompkin's ignorant, bigoted remarks Kaz bristled.

Kaz's conception of Éowyn suddenly painted her as a spirited, Joan of Arc-type character perpetually burdened by the patriarchal society that comprised this dreamscape. Kaz's heart ached for the blonde woman, fictional or not.

Kaz realized that she was still looking at her, and the younger woman's eyes snapped up to meet Éowyn's hazel ones.

"I… I realize I have acted selfishly. Would you like to delay meeting the King until you have washed and changed your clothing? I can inform Théoden of this dilemma, I am sure he will understand."

"Oh, no no," Kaz responded. Although a bath and a fresh set of clothes sounded delightful, who was she to reject the woman's ploy to garner more respect for their mutual gender? Though Kaz wasn't quite sure how Éowyn was going to pull that one off with Kaz looking like she just tumbled out of an industrial meat grinder, but she was interested in finding out. "I totally understand what you're trying to do and I'm happy to help."

Éowyn searched her face. "Are you certain?"

"As long as you do all the talking, absolutely," Kaz replied, smiling up at the older woman. "Besides, we're already here, so let's go!"

Kaz took one purposeful step forward, yet in her exaggerated step she had forgotten about the length of the cloak draped around her. She tripped over its hem, landing in a heap of material on the ground. Well, she would have landed in a heap of material if Éowyn hadn't snagged the cloak from the back at the last moment. Kaz flailed pathetically for half a second before she realized what was happening and sagged in the other's grip.

Éowyn let out a small, amused chuckle.

"We will remove this garment when we enter the Golden Hall, for I don't believe clumsiness will aide in convincing the court of your warrior nature."

"Yeah… good idea."

* * *

Though the smattering of buildings atop the hill of Edoras weren't much to look at from far away, close-up the Golden Hall was an impressive structure.

It was not entirely swathed in gold, as Kaz had first imagined. However, golden embellishments adorned the edging along the rooftop and composed the sun-like symbol plastered on the front of the edifice. She wondered fleetingly if it was real gold before chastising herself. The culture of her dreamscape was closely akin to the Middle Ages, she doubted that gold-colored spray paint was even a thought. Of _course_ it was real.

And then she saw them.

_Ugh. Stairs._

A winding set of stairs was carefully cut into the mountain itself, leading up into the structure. Dragging her butt up those stairs while dressed in a fuckin' carpet sounded positively awful. Kaz could feel the beginnings of a whine stir in the back of her throat. She'd rather shove a sharp stick in her eye. Or five.

Éowyn must've perceived her grumbling, for the older woman looked at Kaz briefly before gazing around them. As the pair had climbing the steep incline, the number of villagers had notably tapered off. The only souls at the top of the hill consisted of a smattering of young men dressed in armor and yielding swords and heavy wooden shields. A matching pair of these men was positioned by the entrance of the Golden Hall. It wasn't difficult to assume these men were guards.

"You may remove the cloak," Éowyn told her, apparently satisfied with their lack of audience. Adorned upon her face was a knowing smile.

Kaz couldn't rip the offending article off her body fast enough. It slipped through her grasp and fell with a heavy thud on the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air. She sheepishly picked the cloak back up to hastily pat at the dust, yet Éowyn was already climbing up the stairs.

Kaz draped the article of clothing over one arm and scurried after her.

* * *

Kaz caught her breath easily as she and Éowyn mounted the top stair. As the women approached the door, she noticed that it, too, had the same gold embellishments that adorned the roof. Celtic-like designs were etched into the pillars and door frame.

Kaz had the sudden urge to touch them- she had never seen that much glittering gold in her life-yet the steely gaze of a guard halted that thought. They had no moved from their positions on either side of the pillars and doors, swathed in silver and bronze armor and yielding heavy shields adorned with a sun-like icon that matched the symbol on the roof.

The four of them peered directly at her from out of the eyeholes of their helmets, their gazes flicking to her stomach, her face, her hair and back again.

She raised a brow at them and put her hands on her hips, yet the men didn't even have the decency to avert their eyes in embarrassment as she expected. The staring continued. Kaz grumbled to herself.

Éowyn turned to her then, a smile spreading across her fair features.

"Welcome, Miss Klara, to Medusëld, the Golden Hall of Edoras."

Kaz mustered a smile for the other women, despite the discomfort she felt at being the object of attention of the other men. Éowyn nodded at one of the guards, her demeanor becoming professionally distant.

"King Théoden is expecting us."

One of the guards stepped forward, his eyes never leaving Kaz.

"I cannot allow you before Théoden-King armed. Are there any weapons upon your person?"

Kaz barely suppressed an exasperated eye-roll. What in the world would she be hiding? Unless she was trying to smuggle a knife in in her underwear, her tattered clothing didn't leave many options.

"No, but you can take this. I'm sick of carrying it," she replied, shoving the heavy cloak at the guard. He accepted the clothing in more surprise than anything, looking down at it in confusion.

"Thank you," Kaz continued cheekily, brushing past the guard and standing beside Éowyn. She shot the other woman a sidelong glance, wondering why the guards hadn't of bothered to check her for weapons. Perhaps Éowyn had more pull here in Edoras than she let on.

Éowyn gave Kaz one last look before pushing open the double doors.

* * *

The smell is what hit her first. A blast of stale air smacked her right in the face, coupled with the musty stench of dust and men.

It was dark in the hall, darker than Kaz had expected. For a building nicknamed the "Golden Hall," an uncanny gloom had settled over the place. The very air was heavy, ripe with melancholy. The sunlight streaming in from the ceiling windows seemed to be gobbled up by the darkness before it reached the floor. It was unearthly, in a way.

Kaz could see shapes of men clustered on the outer edges of the hall, their forms like long shadows in the murky surroundings. The gold of their rings glinted in the darkness, and Kaz assumed the knot of men were royals of some sort.

As her eyes adjusted to her dim surroundings, Kaz could scarcely make out the intricate golden carvings which reached across the hall's ceilings and pillars. Great paintings and murals adored the walls, shrouded by shadows. Even the great, star-like icon cut into the wall above the throne seemed to shine less brightly than it should have.

It was as though a creature of darkness had moved in and made the throne room its permanent home, stretching out like a giant cat and immersing itself into every cavity, reducing the place to a mere shadow of its former glory.

The carpet stretched onward until it hit a small, stage-like structure. Four steps led up to an impressive throne inlaid with gold and whetted, sturdy wood.

The throne was notably vacant. Kaz looked to Éowyn in confusion. _Was this '_ _Théoden' going to make a grand appearance later? Like with trumpets and the whole kit n' kaboodle?_

Éowyn's expression matched her own. Apparently, she had expected the King to be perched in his chair just as much as Kaz did.

"Miss Klara, please wait here," the woman instructed her before striding purposefully down the carpet in the direction of the throne.

 _Wait, what?_ Éowyn was just going to leave her, standing awkwardly in the middle of a large, eerie room with these faceless figures peering out at her from the shadows? _Oh no, fuck this._

Kaz had made to dart after the other woman, yet a voice made her pause.

"Klara?"

A familiar head emerged from the shadows.

"Allard!" Kaz found herself saying automatically, immediately gravitating towards the man. She hadn't intended to physically assault Allard, yet Kaz was suddenly launching herself at him, wrapping her arms around his torso.

She hadn't known the man more than 24 hours, yet the emotion that seized her upon seeing him was overwhelming… she couldn't explain it. After seeing Aldrich cut down in the heat of battle, Kaz yearned to see the little group of Ubourners. She knew it was a dream, that it was all fake… all fictional… but she _needed_ to know that they were alright.

Allard accepted her hug without hesitation, his strong arms wrapping around Kaz's slight frame. The callouses on his fingertips scratched against the back of her neck.

He then drew her back, his hands clutching her arms as he gazed at her in awe.

"I thought you were surely dead!" Allard breathed, blinking swiftly as though Kaz would evaporate from his grasp. "When Juliet said you were on the path of recovery, we could scarcely believe it!"

_We?_

Kaz shrugged out of Allard's clutch, her eyes darting around the hall. "Allard, who else made it? Who else is here?"

"Just us, child."

 _That_ was a familiar voice. Kaz's head swiveled on its axis, locating the source of the words immediately.

Tompkin emerged from the shadows, looking almost apologetic. One of the farmers came up behind him… Warden? Rhett? Kaz still hadn't figured out which one had been which.

There was no one behind the two men. Kaz squinted into the darkness for what seemed like ages, yet no one else came forward. She felt the familiar weight of Allard's hand on her shoulder.

"And Juliet lives thanks to you, little warrior."

Her shoulders sagged. Aldrich... she witnessed his fall. But Palma? Clothilde? The tiny Tranter? Even the other half of Warden/Rhett?

Her eyes stung as a sob got stuck in her throat. Kaz couldn't help but feel responsible. _She_ was the newcomer, _she_ was the outcast. They had accepted her in their group with little hesitation and they ended up getting attacked. If she had just woken up earlier… if she had regained her senses more quickly she may have been able to save Aldrich. Maybe Juliet wouldn't have been so preoccupied with rousing her and would've been able to get away with Clothilde and Tranter. Maybe…

Her train of thought was halted as the sound of a heavy door slamming reverberated throughout the hall. Kaz had little time to appreciate the acoustics of the building before catching sight of Éowyn. She had emerged from a side door near the throne, chin held high and looking much more irritated that when she had left.

A hunched figure in black garb followed her closely, discernibly ogling the exposed flesh at the back of Éowyn's neck. Kaz shuddered involuntarily at the lecherous expression so apparent on the man's face.

Like Kaz and Juliet, this man's features did not coincide with the blonde, blue-eyed population of Rohan. Dark hair framed the man's face in small, greasy circlets. His eyes were of a pale hue, nearly the same shade as his alabaster flesh. While the men of Rohan were broad-chested and sturdy, this man appeared almost weak and frail. The furs draped around his body seemed to nearly drown him.

This man looked certainly at home in the darkness of the Golden Hall, as it appeared he was in serious need of some sunlight. His appearance reminded Kaz of a vampire, miserably pining away in its dungeon. She wondered if he would burn up and turn to ash if he ventured outside. Could this be King Théoden? This man certainly didn't correspond with the image Kaz had constructed in her head.

" _This_ is the woman? She is naught a child," the man suddenly spoke, his voice as dark and slippery as the rest of him.

"Miss Klara, this is Worm- _Gríma_ , chief advisor to Théoden-King."

 _Oh_. It came rushing to her then, the distaste that Éowyn had expressed when she mentioned Wormtongue's name back in the Healing Houses. From the woman's near-slip in introducing the man, Kaz was able to assume that this character must be this 'Wormtongue.' So, Éowyn wasn't a fan. Kaz didn't blame her.

Gríma did not appear perturbed by Éowyn's word slip, instead stepping around the woman to venture closer to Kaz. He approached her, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders hunched forward. The man looked positively villainous in his posture and his pale eyes seemed to bore right through her.

Kaz squeezed her hands into tight fists, resisting the urge to cross her arms over chest. Éowyn wanted her to be a badass warrior lady, so Kaz was determined not to show Gríma that he made her nervous. She lifted her chin, gazing into those pale eyes with resolve.

She felt, more than saw, Allard and Tompkin shift closer to her. So, they must feel it too. Although she was trying to act tough, Kaz was secretly grateful for their presence.

Gríma halted before her, his eyes flicking to her hair, her face, and then to the gaping, bloody hole in her hoodie. He didn't seem to notice the two men hovering around them, nor Éowyn who had so carefully approached them. Disembodied murmurs emerged from the long silhouettes of the royals tucked in the shadows.

" _You_ dispatched two Orc-beasts?" Gríma spoke then, those pale eyes meeting her own. They seem to devour her, tearing at her mental layers and peering straight into her very soul. Kaz fought the urge to squirm under that gaze.

She realized she had been holding her breath. She let it out slowly.

"I did," Kaz replied, proud of herself for keeping her voice steady.

Gríma shot a look at Allard, then Tompkin. Kaz sensed Tompkin nod as Allard spoke.

"She eradicated two of the orc-beasts with the skill and strength of a seasoned warrior."

Gríma's features curled into a snarl then, his lip curling over his teeth.

"It is sorcery, ill magic! A harbinger of wickedness sheathed in the skin of a child!"

A pale, wiry hand shot out from beneath of folds of a dark robe, fisting a large chunk of Kaz's pink hair. She cried out in pain and surprise as Gríma gave a vicious yank, nearly lifting Kaz to the tips of her toes. She reached up to scrabble at the attacking hand yet he had already released her, sending her sprawling on the carpet.

There was shouting then, and Kaz raised her head to see that Tompkin and Allard had moved immediately so they were standing protectively over her. Éowyn had also moved so that she was facing Gríma, her eyes glittering dangerously. Kaz noticed the other woman's fists were trembling—it looked as though she would have loved to strike the King's advisor in that moment.

Warden/Rhett knelt by her, asking if she was alright. Kaz nodded but otherwise ignored him, unwilling to miss the exchange before her.

"She is no threat to Rohan!" Allard insisted, his voice trembling like Éowyn's fists in barely-suppressed anger.

"You treat a woman in this manner?!" Tompkin continued, sounding about as angry as Allard. Kaz wondered when their relationship had changed; she had thought that Tompkin despised her. Though inherently backwards in his thoughts towards women, perhaps he held more chivalry than Kaz gave him credit for.

"She is no _woman_ ," Gríma crowed confidently, seemingly unperturbed by the three individuals surrounding him. "She has deceived you with her appearance, deluded you with her innocence. However, she cannot hide the hue of her hair. It is a mark of her treachery, a testament of her true intentions."

"Why would she then fight for the people of Upbourn? For what purpose? She has saved lives," Allard shot back.

"She hails from the west, Lord Gríma, from an island across the Great Sea," Tompkin added. Again, Kaz was stunned by how Tompkin so readily coming to her defense. His hand unconsciously groped at the empty sheath that once held his sword.

She hurriedly scrambled to her feet, feeling vulnerable lying spread across the carpet.

"I have heard of no such island," Gríma spat, rounding on Kaz once more.

"I'm not surprised," Kaz shot back, surprising herself and everyone else with her boldness. "If this is how you treat people different than you!"

His eyes narrowed to pale slits, observing her with unconcealed disdain. "Then tell me, forerunner of deceit, what is your purpose in Rohan?"

"Her parents were slain-" Allard began, yet was quickly silenced by Gríma.

Kaz just gaped at the question, wracking her brain. She drew an absolute blank. What in the _hell_ did she tell Aldrich she was here for?

"It does not know!" Gríma squawked, lifting up his hands. "It cannot summon a proper lie! Guards! Guards!"

The door to the Golden Hall suddenly burst open, assailing the group with a veneer of yellow sunlight. The group squinted at the onslaught of light and Gríma actually cried out, raising one sleeve to block the sun from his face. Kaz half expected him to start melting under the sun's rays like a wax statue. He didn't.

A tribe of guards poured in, funneling through the double doors and swarming them, weapons drawn.

"Seize this child-fraud and lock it away!" Gríma exclaimed.

"No!" Allard yelled at the same moment, attempting to bodily shoulder the guards away from Kaz.

"Upbourner _stand down_!" Éowyn hollered at that moment, her voice rising above the din. Allard hesitated at her words immediately, allowing the soldiers the opportunity to push past him and Tompkin. Kaz felt metal-clad hands on her arms and shoulders, heaving her forward.

"Lord Gríma, Miss Klara is no threat to Edoras. She has saved lives, she has fought admirably. I implore you to see reason," Éowyn begged of the dark-clad man, who was inching back from the sunlight.

"Foolish woman, so easily swayed. Do you not see the threat right before your eyes? Of course not, so secure within these walls you know naught of the demons of this world."

The guards began to push Kaz forward then, and Kaz tried to stubbornly plant her feet into the carpet. This did not sway the men, however, as they were able to bodily yank her forward. Kaz felt her feet lift from the ground and her arm felt like it was going to fly out of its socket. She stumbled after them clumsily.

"It is _you_ that is foolish!" Éowyn cried, anger coloring her cheeks. "I wish to consult my uncle, he should know if this!"

"I am to be the decisive power while King Théoden is recovers," Gríma responded through gritted teeth, glowering at her. "You know this, so take care to mind your tongue."

At this point, the guards had managed to drag Kaz deeper into the hall. Pissed off by the situation and frustrated at her own helplessness, Kaz focused her energy to summon her omnipotent dream powers. _This is just a dream… a dream where I'm going to kick some soldier ass._

With burning adrenaline igniting her, Kaz roughly jerked back her arm in the soldier's grip. The soldier was snapped back as well, the momentum pitching him back into Kaz. She caught a quick glimpse of the whites in the man's surprised eyes before the fist on her opposing arm connected solidly with the exposed part of the soldier's face.

The man was launched several feet, landing in a pile of clattering armor. His helmet flew off his head and rolled on the carpet several feet away.

The other soldiers hesitated, stunned by the sudden attack of this small, pink-headed girl. Kaz pressed her advantage, jumping up and delivering a swift mid-air roundhouse kick to another soldier. The kicked man joined the other soldier on the carpet in a racket of metal. _Two down… two to go._

"Miss Klara!"

Éowyn's voice made her pause, uncertain. Kaz looked over at the woman. Éowyn was shaking her head, eyes wide, mouthing the word 'no' over and over again.

A sharp pain suddenly blossomed in the back of her head and her vision erupted to white hot nothingness. Kaz was unconscious before her body hit the floor.

* * *

An incessant beeping noise invaded her senses. The rhythmic tone niggled her mind, which blazed with the fiercest headache Kaz had ever experienced.

She cracked open her eyes, immediately shutting them again when an overwhelming glare of white permeated her vision and provoked her smarting head.

A few heartbeats passed and she attempted to open her eyes again. Kaz squinted into the room, waiting patiently for her eyes to adjust to brightness.

She was lying on her back on a hospital room. Sunlight streamed through a large bay window to her left.

A crisp white sheet was pulled over her, draped around her torso. She was wearing a flimsy hospital gown that seemed to barely cover her ass-she could feel the bed sheet where it settled on her bare legs.

Someone was holding her hand. Kaz looked to her right.

It was her dad. He was face down on a spare corner of her bed and breathing deeply, indicating that he had fallen asleep in that position. Kaz felt a small smile pull up the corners of her lips. Her dad was still wearing his puffy winter jacket. His hair was greasy and he smelled as though he hadn't showered in days.

This aside, she had never been so glad to see him in her life. All the anger and irritation she had held towards him was chased away in that very moment. Her Dad wasn't slain by orcs in Upbourn. He was right here when she needed him. Holding her hand. Looking out for her.

Kaz maneuvered her spare hand from underneath the bed sheet, reaching up to pull her father's head closer to herself. She craned her neck forward to plant a chaste kiss into his hair.

"I love you, Dad."


	9. Lying in a Hospital Dying of Nothing

"Home is people. Not a place."

\- Robin Hobb

* * *

Gríma Wormtongue paced the length of the bedroom, his dark cloak swirling around his ankles as he walked. His slight frame was hunched and his thin, white wrists were crossed at the small of his back. He appeared deeply troubled, anxiety rolled off of him in waves.

The bedroom itself was richly decorated with tapestries and paintings that depicted history and legends of the Rohirrim. A plush rug was spread across the length of the floor and a lit fireplace burned comfortably in the far corner.

A gigantic bed took up a large portion of the room. Intricate carvings were etched into its frame and posts and luxurious furs and cloths spilled over the edges. The posts of the bed climbed nearly as tall as a full grown man, symbolizing the absolute regality and power of the bed's owner.

The sole occupant on the bed, however, fell short in emanating the outright grandeur of the room around him.

The man on the bed appeared to be withering and feeble. Deep grooves of age saturated the face of the man, framed by unruly white hair. The man's eyes were red and raw, a stark contrast to his ghostly pallor. His irises had taken on the same hue as his skin. The pale eyes were almost unearthly as they calmly watched Gríma's agitated pacing.

The aged man was clothed in a simple nightgown, yet shining rings and a bronze circlet had been deposited on the nightstand beside him. Despite his bloodless and sickly appearance, any sensible man would be able to surmise that this figure was none other than King Théoden himself.

Gríma paused in mid-stride, peering intently at the King. Théoden had said nothing when Gríma had unceremoniously burst into his chambers. The King gazed at his advisor listlessly, his expression almost bored.

"Is this _your_ doing? Sending this small witch to test me?"

King Théoden remained speechless, his dead eyes trained on Gríma as though the other man was transparent.

"And her _hair…_ it is unnatural! It is short like a man's, and the hue of daybreak? What _is_ this sorcery you have unleashed ? Is she a player in your grand scheme? What purpose does this girl-child serve?"

Gríma, irritated at the other man's silence, stalked up to the immobilized King. He thrust his pale, pointed face near the ill man, as though daring him to react. The latter just stared forward in his torpid state.

"What say you, Lord? I demand an explanation for this development!"

Slowly, ever so slowly, Théoden's phantasmal eyes slid to the side to look upon his advisor. The King regarded the latter in contemplative silence, focusing on Gríma as though he were seeing him for the first time.

"What is this folly you speak of, Worm?" the King spoke, though the words which spilled past his lips were not his own. The words resonated with power and enmity uncharacteristic to the sickly King of the Eorlingas.

Gríma, though it was he himself that had provoked a response from the King, seemed taken aback by the King's words. He shrank back as though suddenly fearful of the frail man.

"A slight, reckless girl with freakish hair has come to Edoras, my Lord," he replied, the previous fire that had ignited his words extinguished. "The survivors of an insignificant village regard her as a hero. What is her purpose in this land?"

King Théoden was quiet for several heartbeats. He seemed to mull over his advisors words, though his expression betrayed no emotion. It was as if the voice which spilled from the King's lips- so divergent from his true voice-was using the old, withered man only as a vessel for its message. The puppeteer could not be bothered with excess mannerisms.

"I know of no such girl," the King replied finally. "She is not of my army." He looked to Gríma then, the sheen in Théoden's eyes daunting. "You believe a mere child a threat? You have grown fearful and foolish, Worm. You mewl and quibble about meaningless matters. Théoden-King must remain alive, and summoning me from his lips only weakens him further."

By this time Gríma had recoiled from the bed-ridden figure, looking as though he would've liked nothing more than to flee from the chambers.

"If this child causes you to so quiver in your boots, then kill her. I care not. Just do not call me from Théoden's lips again, or I shall come to Edoras myself. I trust you do not want this to happen, Worm?"

"N-No, my Lord Saruman," Gríma stuttered. At this point, the wall to the bedroom was at the man's back, and he pressed himself to the wood as though he meant for it to swallow him whole.

"Good," the voice, _Saruman's_ , replied. Théoden's eyelids slipped closed over those pale irises. "Do not fail me Worm, for if you do you will meet a fate much worse than death."

* * *

Kaz's father had woken up almost immediately after she had, and had lunged to envelop her into a fierce hug. His beard scratched at her face and his hair seemed to be greasy and unwashed, yet she did not care. She struggled to free her arms from the awkward position, moving them then to encircle her father. Kaz realized with a pang that she was able to fit her arms all the way around her father, where before she had only managed to brush her fingertips together at the small of his back.

She wriggled away from him, her mouth falling open to say something to him before she caught sight of the cluster of people behind her dad's head. They seemed to have sensed the movement in the hospital room and had swarmed up to the entrance of her hospital room. Her gaze met that of Erik's, which seemed to act as a trigger.

The group poured into the small hospital room, circling her bed like a group of excited canines. Hands reached out to touch her arms, her face. Everyone was speaking to her; hurried, excited words filled the air. Kaz winced, the dull headache that had throbbed dully in the base of her skull returning with gusto.

"Everyone! Everyone-shut up!" Erik declared over the din, noticing Kaz's pained expression. "Jeeze guys, she just woke up!"

The group fell silent immediately, staring at her with poorly-disguised worry and excitement. The brief moment of quietude gave Kaz time to absorb the figures surrounding her. Erik and Marcus were right before her and Ms. DeFour was positioned behind her two boys. Shay and her little sister Haleigh had come around to her left.

Everyone she cared about… they were all in this room. Kaz's heart glowed. For a brief moment, she forgot why she was here.

"Sweetie, are you alright? We were so worried," Ms. DeFour said finally, breaking the silence. Kaz shifted her gaze to look at the woman. Ms. DeFour looked as though she hadn't slept in days. Worry lines creased her forehead. Kaz frowned, guilt eating at her.

It came to her then. Waking up in the middle of the night, howling from the torrent of pain from her belly. Seeing the fuzzy outline of Jay, the horror that marred his young features. The way she had lifted her head up, catching sight of the meaty, atrocious wound that spilled dark lifeblood on her mattress. The wound that had so mirrored the one given to her by that gruesome orc-creature.

Ms. DeFour was speaking to her again, but the words bounced off of Kaz like muted noise… as though she perceived the world through a bubble. Kaz looked down at her belly, wrapping the thin coverlet around her hips and hiking up the thin cotton of the hospital gown.

Marcus giggled and Erik coughed in embarrassment at Kaz's sudden exposure of skin, yet she ignored them. Her stomach was unmarred much like it had been after she had 'healed' herself in her dreamscape.

She stared in awe at the smooth skin of her torso, gingerly touching the freckle by her belly button to assure herself that it was real.

It was.

_So it had happened again. I hurt myself in my dream, I hurt myself here. I healed myself in my dream, I healed myself here._

Kaz swallowed hard at this information. _Everything that happens to me in my dreams happens to me in real life. Everything._

She looked back up to the group surrounding her. They stared at her in muted hesitance, as if they were collectively holding their breath. Watching and waiting to see what she'd do.

Her dad took her hand then, drawing it away from her belly. She looked up at him, meeting the depth of his gaze. There was so much pain, so much worry and anxiety in the depths of his eyes. Kaz found herself lost in his expression for several moments, and it took great inner resolve to pull herself from this distraction and focus on what her father was saying to her.

"I was so scared when they called me, Klare-bear. So scared," her father shook his head slowly, as though he could dislodge the memory from his mind. "They said you were bleeding out… that something had punctured your stomach and through your intestines and uterus…" her father drew in a shaky breath. Kaz was beginning to feel a little sick to her stomach.

"They said you were dying, that you wouldn't live… but God, he…" her father reached out, cupping her face between his thin hands. "He gave you back to me."

He then hugged her to him again, pressing her face into her shoulder. Kaz struggled half-heartedly, embarrassed at the attention. Though she had a ferocious headache, she certainly didn't feel as though she had almost died. At least, not at this particular moment. She _definitely_ didn't feel deserving of all of this attention… or being identified as one 'spared by God.' It made her uncomfortable.

Her dad released her reluctantly, drawing her back to gaze at her in wonder. Tears slipped down his face and into his beard. Kaz's heart wrenched. She wanted to tell him… tell all of them… that it had been just a dream; this whole situation had been no one's fault but her own. That this whole situation was conjured from the dark recesses of her mind, that somehow her body somehow responded in kind to the events that unfolded in her dreamscape.

But looking around at the tense and smiling faces around her, Kaz knew they wouldn't believe her. They never would. They would simply attribute her story to delusions borne of her near-tragedy. A result of blood loss, maybe. The only one who would believe her… who _could_ believe her… was-

_Jay._

"Where's Jay?" Kaz asked suddenly, her voice cutting through the moment unapologetically. Her dad's face morphed into one of uncertainty, his eyes betraying themselves by flickering in the direction of Ms. DeFour.

Kaz's head swiveled around to stare directly at the boy's mother, gaze ripe with steely resolve. The woman looked as though she were about to cry at the mention of her son's name.

She pushed aside her guilt at unwittingly causing Ms. DeFour such duress. The gnawing feeling of guilt had become quite familiar to Kaz now, like the constant presence of an uncomfortable visitor.

"Where's Jay?" she repeated, her attention completely on the woman.

Ms. DeFour's bottom lip trembled and her grip on Erik and Marcus's shoulders tightened as though they were the only things keeping her upright. Marcus let out a small whine in protest, yet Ms. DeFour didn't seem to hear him. One lone tear escaped from the corner of her eye, tracing the contour of her cheek.

"He's at the police station," Marcus answered helpfully, squirming a bit under his mom's grip.

Kaz's eyes widened as her gaze flicked to Marcus. Her mouth dropped open.

"He's _where_?!"

"They… they think he stabbed you," Erik said, his voice strangely calm and quiet. "They're holding him at the police station. It… it looks bad Kaz."

_No no no no no no no no._

"Jay did _not_ hurt me," Kaz responded immediately, her voice firm. She had to clench her hands into fists together to keep them from trembling in anger. "He never has, he never will."

The group around her seemed to exhale in relief at that moment. Ms. DeFour sagged at Kaz's words and looked as though she were about ready to collapse on the group in a heap. Erik noticed and wrapped one secure arm around his mother's thin frame, keeping her upright.

Shay and Haleigh were watching the scene as though they were afraid to say anything. Her father's comforting hand found hers again.

" _Klara_ …" her dad said, trailing off. However, his tone and expression spoke volumes. _You don't need to lie to protect him_ were his unspoken words.

Kaz yanked her hand from her father's grip, fury coloring her judgment.

"Jay did _not_ hurt me!" she near-yelled, shrinking back from the man. A nurse, clad in blue scrubs, had entered the room to see what the commotion was. Seeing that Kaz was awake, the nurse flew out of the room again, perhaps to find a doctor.

Kaz hardly noticed. She jumped out of bed and Shay and Haleigh hurriedly moved out of her way. Kaz scoured the room in an effort to find some clothing.

"Klare-bear, you need to rest. Klara!"

Kaz rounded on her dad, her eyes burning. "Jay did _not_ hurt me Dad! Look, I feel fine! I'm going to the police station to get him _right_ _now_. He doesn't deserve to be there. Now where the _hell_ are my clothes?"

"Here they are," said a small voice to her left. Kaz looked over to see Haleigh hold out a plastic bag to her, her expression ambivalent. Kaz could see the faint outline of clothes weighing it down. Kaz accepted the bag with a grateful smile at Shay's little sister.

She then proceeded to plunk the bag on the ground and fished out a pair of jeans, ignoring the sound of her father's protests.

She was pulling the jeans on under her hospital gown when a doctor entered the room, followed closely by the nurse from before. The doctor was a young guy, tall and bronze-skinned with closely-cropped brown hair. He raised one dark eyebrow at Kaz, who was hopping on one foot at this point.

"Going somewhere, Miss Zachary?" the doctor asked. His tone was firm and professional.

"Yeah, I'm going to go get my friend," she responded tersely, pulling her jeans over her hips and buttoning them. "The police think he hurt me and I need to go tell them he didn't."

"That's actually what I want to talk to you about, Klara. May I call you Klara?"

Without waiting for an answer, the doctor glanced up to look at all the people crammed in the small room.

"Would everyone except immediate family please wait in the waiting room, please? Thank you."

One by one, everyone except her dad filed out of the hospital room. Shay gave Kaz a small smile as she walked by, perhaps in an attempt to comfort the other. Marcus turned around to give Kaz one last, puzzled look as he was ushered out the door. Erik was too focused on helping his mother out of the door to look at her; Ms. DeFour had all but collapsed against her son, shoulders trembling in barely-suppressed sobs.

The doctor closed the door as the last person exited the room. The nurse wordlessly handed the doctor a clipboard; the doctor accepted it and began to thumb through the pages.

"Klara, my name is Doctor Pueser. I treated you during your stay here, and may I say that your case is very remarkable. You were brought into the emergency room, transferred to the intensive care unit, and then to the general wing of the hospital in a manner of two days."

"Let me guess," Kaz responded, looking at Dr. Pueser. A bra was clutched in one hand. "It's because I healed really fast, huh?"

"Well, yes," the doctor replied, "You healed from a potentially life-threatening injury in a matter of hours. The ambulance EMT's had never seen anything like it—they said your wound had begun to knit itself together even on the way of the hospital. The technologists actually watched your organs regenerate in the series of x-rays they took. It's astounding, your rate of recovery."

"Awesome," Kaz muttered. She turned around so that her back faced the men before pulling off the thin cotton of the hospital gown and pulling on her bra. The bra felt weird and constricting on her chest, and Kaz realized that she had been notably lacking any sort of support under her hoodie in Middle Earth. Going au naturel for so long in her dreamscape had spoiled her.

Dr. Pueser was still speaking. "Klara, I must insist you stay for at least another day. We'd like to test your rate of regeneration here at the hospital. It really is extraordinary, but we want to be certain that no repercussions or lingering effects from your wound persist."

Kaz had pulled on her t-shirt and jacket at this point, and she turned around to face the doctor. Every moment that ticked by only exasperated her further. She needed to get to Jay. He was stuck at the police station for a crime that he didn't-wouldn't _ever_ -commit, and it was completely her fault. At this point, the quibbering Dr. Pueser and silent nurse were simply obstacles to her goal.

"I'm _fine_. Look? See?" Kaz said, lifting up the hem of her shirt to bare her smooth belly at the doctor. She patted the unblemished skin in emphasis. "I'm leaving now, put _that_ on your clipboard. You can't keep me here. I'm going to get my friend."

Kaz reached up to tear away her paper medical bracelet, depositing it on Dr. Pueser's clipboard before pushing past the two medical personnel. They let her go with little resistance. She simply ignored their objections.

Kaz emerged into a brightly-lit hallway. She was blinking away spots from her vision when a hand settled on her shoulder.

"This way," a gruff voice said. Kaz looked up questioningly to see her dad standing over her. His expression was equivocal, yet resigned to his decision.

"The waiting room is this way. I'm sure Samantha will give you a ride to the police station. She's probably heading back there now that you're woken up."

Samantha was Ms. DeFour's first name. Despite his earlier protests, her father had resigned to the fact that it was futile to try to stop Kaz from leaving. She wondered then what he thought of this situation, if he actually believed their neighbor was capable of harming his daughter in such a way.

Well, no matter what her dad thought he had chosen to support her in her decision. Kaz felt a smile spread across her face. That was all she could ask of him.

"Thanks dad."

* * *

Titus Ashford hated hospitals. He hated the way the entire place reeked of disinfectant. He hated the way nurses splashed up those big, fake smiles on their faces when speaking to the families. He hated the way the pages of the magazines in the waiting room stuck together. He hated those forgotten Cheerios crushed into the carpet. He hated how the constant ringing of phones and the beeping of machines comprised the background noise.

He hated how the families in the waiting room would huddle together, despair and anxiety hanging over them like a cloud. He hated how the little boy would sneak glances at him curiously, mindful of his mother's hand clutched protectively around his smaller grip. He hated how the mother had hunkered down within herself, completely immersed in her own misery. He hated how he would catch the older boy looking at him, distaste written all over his face.

Not that he blamed the kid. Ashford was, after all, the detective that had arrested his kid brother.

Jay William DeFour, nice kid. Nice family. No priors. It was a shame, really, what he did to that little girl.

Ashford had gotten the call over his radio a few days prior. He was in the area and his ledger of cases was notably vacant, so he had decided to check it out. A scared teenager had called for an ambulance from a run-down cluster of apartments in Chicago's near west side.

The victim was a small young woman with pink hair. Klara Arlene Zachary-or 'Kaz' according to the neighbor kids-was impaled directly through the stomach with something long and sharp.

The whole mess, however, was unlike anything the forensic analysts had ever seen. The blood had been isolated on the bed, indicating that the girl had been stabbed while sleeping. The mattress, however, hadn't been penetrated in the slightest with the weapon used to wound the girl. In fact, they scoured the apartment and weren't able to find the weapon anywhere.

Ashford would never forget the look on the kid's face. When he had first approached him Jay was seated on floor, back against the wall and bloodied hands held in front of his eyes as if he couldn't believe they were there. His brother, Erik DeFour, was seated on the floor next to him and spoke in a hushed, urgent tone. Fat tears trickled down Jay's cheeks as he shook his head back and forth slowly. It was as though he had ceased listening to his older brother and was instead trapped in his own mind, possessed by horrors that he had just witnessed.

Ashford remembered picking the kid off the floor, despite Erik's protests. He remembered reading the kid his rights, shoving Jay's arms behind his back and fastening them together with a pair of handcuffs. Jay had offered no resistance, and simply stared into space as Ashford hauled him out of the building and into the back of his cruiser.

It was like that when they had questioned him. Jay simply sat there in subdued silence, staring at interrogation table as though he found it the most interesting thing in the world. When they asked him if he had stabbed Klara, he had said no. When they asked him if he knew who had, he had said no.

The boy seemed sincere in his responses, as though he really didn't know who had injured his neighbor. Or he was a very good liar. But the facts of the situation reigned supreme—Jay had been alone in that apartment with Klara. There were no signs of forced entry, no signs of anyone else but those two kids in that apartment. All evidence-what they had of it-led to Jay DeFour. Klara's injuries had been declared too severe and she wasn't expected to survive more than a couple of hours.

Klara would die. Jay would be charged. Case closed.

Except, a new development muddied the waters. Ashford had seen the gigantic bloodstain that had seeped into the ratty mattress and remembered wondering how the in world so much blood could have come from one so small. He remembered thinking that no one could possibly survive this. He remembered dismissing the girl to be as good as dead. Ashford had been a detective for ten years now and had witnessed plenty of grisly murder scenes. He knew a lost cause when he saw one.

The girl, however, defied all expectations. To the absolute shock of the EMTs, doctors, surgeons, and nurses that had worked on her case, Klara Arlene Zachary completed repaired herself in just two short days. Well, one day to be exact. She had spent the second day sleeping but completely healed. It was as if the universe had said, "no, not this one," and thrust her back into this world completely restored.

The medical staff was bewildered. Ashford still didn't quite believe it when they had called him, despite their excitement was nearly palpable over the phone. Nevertheless, his boss had sent him to the hospital to collect Klara when she was ready to give her statement. In truth, Ashford felt more like a glorified babysitter. He suspected the real reason he was here was to prevent Klara from running off.

So here he was, sitting awkwardly in the hospital waiting room with the family of the boy he had just arrested. They knew who he was; he had no doubt that Erik had said something to his mother during one of Ashford's bathroom breaks. He had felt eyes on him for hours. Not that he wasn't able to ignore it, working as a detective demanded a certain degree of resolve. However, the constant staring had begun to wear on his psyche.

Ashford hated hospitals.

A commotion from the hallway broke the reverie of the waiting room. Ashford looked up from the sticky magazine he had been pretending to read to see the younger son, Marcus skid into the waiting room. The boy had entertained himself for the last hour by sneaking away to peek into Klara's hospital room, even after being chastised by several nurses.

"Guys! She's awake! She's awake!"

Then off he was again, vanishing down the hallway. The effect was instantaneous; four bodies rose in conjunction to follow the boy.

Ashford rose from the waiting room chair, stretching out like a cat. He felt several joints pop in response and he grunted. He definitely needed a shower—no one had relieved him from his post at the hospital so he had ended up staying here all night. Ashford didn't dare remove his sport jacket for he wasn't sure of the state of the armpits on his shirt. He had already taken off his tie, having sacrificed the garment as a napkin to mop up the accumulated coffee spills on his collar and jean legs.

Ashford settled back down into the chair, setting aside the magazine. He patted his holster for his gun and his pocket for his cell phone. Check and check. Klara would have to come down this way to exit the building. He would be waiting for her.

* * *

The residents of the waiting room came back shortly afterward. Jay's mother, Samantha, looked even more broken than when she had left, all but falling atop her eldest son. Erik supported her entirely, leading her to one of the chairs and gingerly lowering the thin woman into it. Samantha looked lost, tears rolling down her cheeks and soaking her blouse. Erik cast Ashford a withering glare before attending to his mother, whispering comforting words.

Ashford felt no remorse at the scene. He supposed he ought to of, for it was him that had arrested the woman's son, but despite the protests and misery of his family, Ashford still felt as though Jay DeFour was completely guilty. Distraught family members, especially mothers, of the convicted were the norm for Ashford. Family just refused to believed that their son, brother, sister, whatever was incapable of the things they had done. More often than not, the family was in denial.

Ashford watched the grieving woman in silence. After all, it must be near impossible to accept the fact she had raised a monster.

Only a few moments seemed to pass before her saw Klara, walking into the waiting room with her dad on her heels.

_There you are._

The girl didn't seem as small as the paramedics had made her out to be. She stood at about 5' 3" tall, about the same height as one of Ashford's cousins. She was scrawny though-her features not as sharp and angular as the DeFour boys-but thin regardless. The pink mop of hair atop her head was mussed and faint circles rimmed her eyes as though she hadn't been asleep for the past three days.

Her hazel eyes, however, were bright and burned with determination. Klara's eyes caught Ashford, consuming his appearance warily. She was careful and deliberate in the way she moved, the detective noticed. Her eyes held an understanding and intelligence uncharacteristic of girls her age. This girl, he remembered, pursued no secondary education and worked in a waffle shop, yet she scrutinized Ashford as rigorously as he would inspect a convict.

Ashford felt his hackles rise in response. Perhaps it would be unwise to underestimate Klara Arlene Zachary.

"Kaz," Erik said, surprise evident in his voice. He had not expected Klara to emerge from her room so quickly. Ashford noted this.

Klara's eyes, which were trained on Ashford, never wavered.

"Who's this guy?" she asked. The detective noted the boldness and impatience in the girl's voice. "He looks like a cop."

It wasn't the first time Ashford had been accused of such a thing. He wondered briefly what 'cops' tended to look like, and how he kept fitting the definition. He wasn't even dressed in a suit—just a neat sport jacket, white collared shirt, and jeans. And yet this Klara girl pegged him right off the bat. He found that he was just slightly annoyed.

"He's the bastard that put Jay away," Erik answered, the bitterness evident in his voice. Marcus looked at his brother in shock, as though stunned at the revulsion in his older brother's voice. Erik ignored him, however.

 _Gee thanks, kid,_ Ashford thought, watching Klara's eyes narrow. From the girl's reaction, it was very obvious Klara wasn't too happy with that nugget of information. The girl stalked up to Ashford, stopping within a few feet of the man. The detective had since climbed to his feet, meeting her gaze easily.

His fingers twitched as though they longed to rest protectively on his holster. Ashford didn't think that the girl would be so foolish as to attempt to attack him, but the fire in her eyes burned right through him, straight to his core. This was a woman on mission, if he had ever seen one.

"Why are you here? To stop me from leaving?" Klara hissed, her hazel irises glittering dangerously.

"My name is Detective Ashford, Ms. Klara," he responded, inclining his head in greeting. "I'm glad to see that you are well. I just wanted to ask you a couple of questions."

Klara hesitated, looking back over her shoulder at Samantha DeFour. The woman was propped up against her eldest son's shoulder, eyes unseeing as she stared blankly at the opposing wall. The girl sucked in a quick breath before turning back to Ashford.

"Fine. You can ask me on the way to the police station."

* * *

The detective was sloppy, that's what Klara had first noticed. Faded stains were apparent on his shirt and jeans, likely from carelessly spilled coffee. His nails were chewed to the quick, indicative of a severe nail-biting habit. His shirt had become partially untucked. His shoes were scuffed and dirty and looked to be about twenty years older than the rest of his attire.

The second thing she had noticed was that he showed no remorse for Ms. DeFour's shell-shocked state. Her father had offered to drive the little tribe-sans Shay and Haleigh, who had come in Shay's rickety car-to the police station in Ms. DeFour's car as the latter was clearly unfit to drive. Ashford had watched, unblinking, as Erik and her dad had delicately raised Ms. DeFour from her seat and guided her out of the building.

There was no regret on his face, not even a grimace when Erik had once lost his grip and nearly sent his mother careening into a wall. Nothing.

Kaz decided quickly she didn't like Ashford. It was obvious he had already made up his mind about Jay; that to him, the plight of Ms. DeFour and her family were simply a result of those who could not come to grips with the truth.

On the promise of answering his questions, Ashford had agreed to drive Kaz to the police station. Her dad had protested leaving her alone with the detective but finally relented when Ashford had promised to delay his questions until they reached the station. Perhaps if she weren't so preoccupied with her concern about Jay, Kaz would have once been entertained by the idea of being in a detective's car.

Instead, she stuck her cheek against the frozen glass of the passenger side window, peering out of the window and counting in her head the amount of streets left until they reached the station.

"So Klara, where'd you go to high school?"

This caught her off-guard. She had expected the detective to remain silent on their drive. From the way he had looked at her, Kaz had determined that he didn't like her much either. She had made her stance on Jay's guilt perfectly clear.

"Don't you know?" she grumbled, not lifting her cheek from its position pressed against the glass. _Doesn't he have… a master file on her or something?_

Ashford chuckled, a deep rumbling sound that blossomed from his gut. His laugh was distinct and reminded Kaz of Aldrich's. She looked up at the detective then, furrowing her brow in suspicion. _What is he doing?_

"You caught me. Just humor me, alright?"

Kaz studied him for a moment before heaving a sigh. She told him.

"Ah, my little cousin went there, y'know. Did you know a Kelly Ashford? Bout your size, maybe a few years older?"

Kaz shook her head no.

"She was a good kid. Real bright too. You kind of remind me of her, y'know? Wouldn't take any lip from no one, that one."

Kaz was already bored with this conversation, so she stuck her face back into the passenger side window. Ashford, however, just kept talking.

"Anyway, Kelly met this guy in her senior year. His name was John… or James? Oh well, it was something with a 'J.' It doesn't matter. Kelly really fell hard for the guy, was so in love with the kid it was scary. But this John or James ran with a tough crowd, y'know? Little things at first—a little pot here and there. Gettin' caught smoking in the high school parking lot. Stupid stuff."

Kaz rolled her eyes slightly and watched her breath fog the glass of the window. She had a sinking feeling she knew where this conversation was headed.

"But then after they graduated, John or James was getting pinched for the harder drugs. Then it was armed robbery. He was in and out from behind bars for years, yet my cousin still loved him. Thought the guy shit rainbows or something."

Ashford paused to snicker softly at his own joke.

"One day, John or James got home. Was real mad about something, that one. Beat poor Kelly to a pulp, his knuckles even had her blood on them. But even in her hospital bed she still insisted he didn't do it, that she loved him and he would never do such a thi-"

"Okay, _I get it_ ," Kaz interrupted, turning her head to look directly at the detective. He was watching her from the corner of his eye. "You think I'm defending Jay because I love him or think he shits rainbows or whatever the fuck, right? Well, you're wrong. I'm defending him because _he didn't do it_. That's it. End of story. So please, just shut the fuck up, I don't want to hear it."

A silence settled over the car then, spanning several moments. Finally Ashford spoke.

"So, if you're so convinced your friend didn't do it, then who did?"

Kaz remained quiet as she turned and pressed her face back into the passenger side window. She didn't respond.

* * *

"Gríma!"

His name echoed down the long hallway, bouncing against the wooden walls and pillars. The tone was urgent, desperate, yet the man in question would have recognized that voice anywhere. _Éowyn._

Gríma closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the delicious sound of his name falling from the lips of the flaxen-haired beauty of Edoras. He sucked a breath between his teeth before turning, as if to prepare himself for the sight of Éowyn, daughter of Éomund.

She was hurrying towards him, her ivory fists clutched at her skirts to permit her to glide more freely down the hallway. He watched her approach with shrewd fascination, his eyes raking over her form shamelessly.

To this day, Gríma was still unable to explain the unmistakable pull the King's niece had on him. Perhaps she served as some sort of symbolic light to his darkness, her cheeriness and pure strength able to chase away the shadows and lies he had cast around himself. Or perhaps he simply wished to conquer her, to gain mastery over and hoard her inner light in his gnarled clutches.

Alas, the reasoning behind his fixation was a moot point. Soon, the Dark Lord would conquer and make whole the divided, pitiful lands of Middle Earth. Gríma, as a loyal and dutiful servant, would be gifted with the entirety of Rohan and its riches. He would then take Éowyn as his bride. She would be his.

If Éowyn had noticed that Gríma had unabashedly leering at her, she gave no indication. She came to a halt before the King's advisor and drew up to look him in the eye.

"Gríma, Miss Klara has been taken to the jails," Éowyn huffed, her grey eyes alight. "You did not permit I nor the Upbourners to speak in her defense! This is folly, I implore you to reconsider your actions."

Gríma only grinned, his thin lips drawing over yellowed teeth.

"You are so young and foolish, girl. I have consulted with Théoden-King and, ill as he is, the King sustains my advisement on the matter. You may whimper and moan all you like, yet your complaints fall on deaf ears here."

The King's advisor turned on his heel and strode back down the hallway, his body language clear in his dismissal. To his annoyance, Éowyn fell into step beside him.

"Upon coming to Edoras, the grey wizard spoke of ill fortune brewing in the east. You ignored him, casting him away with only a horse! Now a strange, exotic girl happens upon Edoras, a hero to the survivors of Upbourn. Survivors of an orc attack, even! And you ignore this, too? This girl could-"

Gríma whirled then, his cloak spiraling behind him in a wave of darkness. His eyes met those of Éowyn, boring into her grey depths.

"Hold your tongue, woman!" he hissed, the serpentine timbre of his voice likely to cause goosepimples to all who heard it. "For in your accusations you not only question the wisdom of the Lord's advisor, but your _King_. All decisions that originate from Meduseld fall from the lips of Théoden-King himself. The fate of the daybreak-haired girl lies in your uncle's wizened hands."

A pale, long-fingered hand emerged from the inner sanctum of Gríma's dark cloak, reaching up to touch Éowyn's chin. The woman shivered.

"I will forgive your indiscretions this time, my dear Éowyn. But I do advise you to be more careful in your fits of hearsay."

He offered the woman one final smirk, curling his lip, before turning again and continuing down the hall.

To his perverse satisfaction, Éowyn did not follow him. In his own conceited delusion, Gríma felt as though he were ultimately successful in disgracing the meddling noblewoman.

With his back turned, however, Gríma missed the way Éowyn's teeth grit together and how her eyes blazed with a fire of defiance.

* * *

They hadn't let Kaz see Jay.

They told her that he was here, locked in one of the temporary cells of the station, but she wasn't allowed to see him until she was properly interviewed.

So here she sat in the hard, chrome chair of the interrogation room. Another, matching chair was pulled up the table across from her. The room was brightly lit and a one-way mirror stretched across the wall to the right of her. Kaz didn't watch many films, but she knew enough to know that a group of people could possibly be on the other side of that mirror, watching her intently without her knowledge. She tried her best not to think about that.

Kaz knew she had been hard on the detective on the way to the station. He hadn't said more than five words to her before depositing her into this interrogation room. She wondered idly if his story about his cousin "Kelly" held any grain of truth. Perhaps she'd be more sympathetic if one of her best friends weren't locked up for a crime she _knew_ he didn't commit. Perhaps she'd be more sympathetic if Ashford didn't look at her like she was caught within her own delusion. Perhaps she'd be more sympathetic if she weren't acutely aware that Jay had spent his 17th birthday in a jail cell.

 _Oh god… Jay_.

Exhaustion suddenly hit her like a wave. However, the exhaustion she felt was not physical. She reached up to knead her face, grinding her fists into her eyes like she could rub out the memories of these last couple of days. How had her life become so royally fucked up?

She was a freak, that's the only explanation she had for what's happening to her. Her body makes real whatever happened to her in the weird, fucked-up dream saga she was having. _And_ the dream is about a book she had never ever read, to boot.

Kaz remembered when her dad had embraced her back at the hospital, declaring her speedy recovery as an act of God himself.

 _Well, if this is really_ Him _, then God really has a fucked-up sense of humor_ , Kaz thought darkly.

The door opened then, shaking Kaz from her thoughts. She lowered her hands from her face, bracing her elbows on the table and leaning forward. An unfamiliar older man dressed in a suit walked in, followed closely by Ashford. Kaz raised an eyebrow in almost-challenge, prepared for the questions the two men were prepared to toss her way.

* * *

"I'm tellin' ya Joe, the kid did it," Ashford protested nary a moment after they walked out of the interrogation room. "She can say 'no' all she wants. She's just protecting him for some godforsaken reason. She even acts like _she_ is the one who inconvenienced _him_."

Joe Henderson turned to face him, smoothing down one bushy eyebrow. It was a sign of stress, Ashford knew. Henderson was Ashford's partner before the older detective had opted for a more desk-oriented position. For health reasons, the man had said. Ashford knew better, though. After the birth of his little granddaughter, Henderson had decided that keeping close to the station was in the best interests of him and his family.

Ashford had little family, and no children. He couldn't empathize, but he understood.

"I'm sorry Titus, but our hands are tied at this point. There was no weapon, and the only thing that links the kid to the attack is being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Plus the girl says he didn't do it, and doesn't want to press charges. We have to let the kid go. I'll tell the Chief."

"She's lying," Ashford said, trying to meet his old partner's eyes. "She's good at it, but she's lying. You and I both know she is. There's something she's not telling us."

Henderson looked at Ashford, shrugging helplessly.

"Again, I'm sorry Titus. Sometimes it just is what it is."

* * *

"Jay!" Kaz shouted immediately upon seeing him.

The detectives had since led her out of the interrogation room and to a cluster of chairs that served as a makeshift waiting area. She had plunked down next to her dad, who informed her that Jay's family had gone back to see him in his cell. Kaz had begun to tap her foot impatiently, eyes trained on the door leading to the temporary holding cells.

After what seemed like hours, Jay's dark head appeared in the door frame. He looked haggard and worn, but it was him. Ms. DeFour had her palm placed between his shoulder blades as she gently guided him through the station. Erik hovered on the other side of his brother protectively, looking as though he were ready to growl at any police officer that dared to approach his little brother. Marcus trailed after them in silence.

At the sound of his name, Jay looked up and met Kaz's gaze. She felt a wide grin break open her face when Jay's eyes landed on her, but there was no reciprocation from her friend. His eyes and face were expressionless, haunted. There was a faint flicker of recognition, but no inclination of joy. No semblance of relief. Nothing.

The entire exchange lasted only a moment before Jay looked away, but it was enough. Kaz felt as though the floor had opened up beneath her sneakers and had swallowed her whole. She felt as if all the breath had just whooshed out of her lungs. _He… he looked at me as though I wasn't even here_.

Guilt threatened to suffocate her right then and there. It suddenly became hard to breathe.

She felt the comforting hand of her father come to rest on her shoulder, yet found little comfort in it.

"Give him time, Klare-bear. This whole thing has been hard on all of us."

She didn't respond, simply watched the backs of the DeFour family as they crossed the room and exited into the elevator. When the elevator doors closed on Jay's empty face, Kaz felt as though those same doors had closed upon her heart.

 


	10. The Caged Bird Sings with a Fearful Trill

"There's a loneliness that only exists in one's mind. The loneliest moment in someone's life is when they are watching their whole world fall apart, and all they can do is stare blankly."

-F. Scott Fitzgerald

 

* * *

 

Éowyn strode purposefully down the rustic hallway of the Golden Hall with undisputed confidence, spine rigid and features set in a determined glare. She clutched a small cloth bundle tightly to her breast as she rounded one corner and immediately descended down a spiraling staircase.

As she padded quickly down the stairs the shadows completely eclipsed the soft, white cotton of her attire and the flaxen of her hair. The air grew heavy with despondence the lower Éowyn sank, the gloom nearly as palpable as in the throne room itself.

Two sets of eyes appraised her suspiciously as the noblewoman achieved her last step. Éowyn halted for a brief moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the shadow, staring unflinchingly back at those twin gazes.

She was in the dungeons of Rohan. Éowyn had only found herself in this particular part of the Golden Hall of Meduseld at one other point in her life. She was only a child-five years at most-when her father, the Lord Éomund, had taken her down to show her the small prison.

'Pray you will never find yourself here,' her father had told her, eyes shining with barely-disguised mirth. 'But remember, this remains an option for you if I or your mother discovers you misbehaving.'

As terrifying as the prison had seemed in her youth, Éowyn had believed her father. From then onward, she was an extraordinarily well-behaved child.

Now, more than twenty years later, the dungeons still caused goosepimples to surface on the expanse of her arms. The soft hairs at the back of her neck rose in anticipation. However, Éowyn was acutely aware of the fact that the twin gazes of the guards had not wavered. The noblewoman swallowed hard and strode forward, hoping that she appeared more self-assured than she felt.

"I've come to bring some fresh clothes for the prisoner," she stated, holding out the soft bundle in emphasis.

The guards were silent for several moments, appraising her through the narrow eye-holes of their matching helmets. Finally, the smaller of the two men turned to the other in question, as if he were unsure how to answer. The larger guard then, his eyes never leaving those of Éowyn's.

"Théoden-King has instructed us to keep the strange-haired prisoner in isolation," the guard stated, his voice gruff yet almost apologetic. "I'm sorry Lady Éowyn, but we cannot allow you to pass."

A flash of annoyance burned in Éowyn belly, and she fought to keep the emotion from her face.

"No, Lord Wormtongue gave the order, did he not?" Éowyn replied, her voice hard and unyielding. The smaller man actually fidgeted at her tone. Éowyn pressed her advantage.

"I don't know what Lord Gríma has told you of this strange-haired prisoner, or what he intends to do with her, but above all else she is a woman. A girl even, hardly older than myself. A girl swathed in bloodstained rags amidst the scrutiny of evil men in this place." Éowyn gestured beyond the iron gate directly behind the guards. "Please, allow her this one decency."

The smaller guard was full-on staring at the larger man at this point, awaiting the other's response. The larger guard hesitated for several heartbeats, his gaze jerking uncertainly between Éowyn and the soft bundle in her arms.

The Rohirrim were a fiercely proud and respectful people. Though women were not allowed to fight alongside their male counterparts in battle, the Rohirrim men held the upmost respect for their women. They recognized that women held certain strength in their own right, and any mistreatment against an innocent woman in Edoras was met with grave punishment.

Éowyn hoped to play upon this conviction to win her favor. As the larger man's armored shoulders sagged ever-so-slightly, she knew she had been successful.

"Just for a few moments, Lady Éowyn," the men relented, reaching out towards the bundle of clothing. "But if I may inspect the clothing… there are protocols I simply cannot disregard."

"Of course," she replied, surrendering the small bundle of clothing easily.

Once the guard had inspected the bundle and determined that it contained no more than folded cloth he deposited the package back into Éowyn's arm. Then he nodded towards his smaller counterpart before stepping aside and unlatching the gate, drawing it back with a harsh squeak of rusty hinges. Éowyn heard the faint shuffling of curious prisoners scrambling to their feet, stirred by the noise.

"The girl is at the end of the hallway, as far as possible from the rest of the men," the guard told her. "Do walk fast, Lady Éowyn. Many of these men have not seen a woman in ages and have forgotten civilized behavior."

Éowyn lifted her chin in response. Her conviction gave her strength.

"I understand. Thank you, Sir Guard."

Without further ado, Éowyn stepped over the threshold and into the prison. A long expanse of cells lined each side of the hallway. The occupants of the prison had since stepped up to the iron bars of their respective confinement, pressing their faces against the metal to better gaze upon the visitor. The gleam of teeth and watery eyes in the near-darkness held the promise of malice. Éowyn felt multiple pairs of eyes rake down her form, devouring her visage with greedy voracity.

However she never stopped, even as the chorus of jeers and whistles spilled from the cells. She kept to the center of the hallway, carefully avoiding the grasping hands that sought to touch her. A shrill clang rang out and echoed down the hallway, effectively silencing the prisoners for a few precious moments.

Éowyn was grateful to the guard, as she was sure that he had struck his weapon against the iron of the cell bars to serve as a temporary distraction. It was enough to get Éowyn past the last few occupied cells without too much hindrance.

There she was. As the guard had said, they had deposited Klara in the very last cell. A small, wall-mounted lantern burned slowly from outside Klara's prison, splashing pale light upon her face.

Klara was sprawled upon the hard ground, her strange-hued hair partially masking her features. She appeared unharmed despite the sorry state of her attire. The noblewoman sank to her knees upon the dirty floor to be eye-level with the girl.

"Miss Klara?" Éowyn whispered softly, attempting to rouse the younger girl. "Miss Klara it's me, Éowyn, please wake up."

"A clean conscience must make a soft pillow."

Éowyn jumped at the sudden voice from behind her, nearly falling over herself in her haste to turn around. She turned to peer into the cell directly across from Klara's, her eyes roving over its contents in haste to discover the source of the statement.

A hunched figure she had not noticed earlier stirred from within the cell. She could see the whites of the man's eyes as he looked out at her. It was difficult to determine the features of the man beneath his lengthy beard and shaggy eyebrows. His large, ridiculous hat and baggy brown cloak threatened to swallow his slight form. Éowyn did not recognize the man, though from his attire and statement alone she felt confidence in assuming he had been imprisoned with the diagnosis of madness.

The prisoner must be mostly harmless, however, if the guards felt comfortable with placing Klara directly across from him.

"Tell me prisoner, has she awoken since she has been here?" Éowyn demanded of the man. The noblewoman's patience was all but nonexistent. She was aware that she only had a limited time with Klara, and she needed to speak with the girl.

The man was silent for a moment, studying Éowyn with bored interest. His eyes glittered with an unknown emotion.

"No, tell me," he replied, his voice betraying strength uncharacteristic to his appearance. "Tell me why the Horse King now locks up young girls?"

"That is none of your concern," she replied quickly, too worn to muster a clever lie to abate the prisoner.

The lips of the bearded man pursed, clearly unappeased by her answer. "In a land of blind, the one-eyed man is King, it seems," the prisoner replied lowly. "Are you of the blind, Miss Lady?"

Éowyn just ignored him, as it was apparent he was unwilling to cooperate. She turned back to Klara's cell. The girl had not but stirred from the commotion of their conversation, and was too far from the bars for Éowyn to jostle her physically.

A crude ruckus had begun to brew at the forefront of the hallway. One of the guards must have come in after her, agitated by the amount of time she was taking. She had only moments.

With haste, the flaxen-haired Rohirrim placed the small bundle of clothing just inside the bars. Éowyn then reached up to produce a small, wickedly curved blade from within the folds of her skirts. It was a simple kitchen implement, not likely to be missed by the staff. Yet it was sharp and effective, intended to be used in the skinning of flesh from the bones of small creatures.

The woman tucked the blade into the bundle, arranging it carefully so it was completely disguised amidst the cloth.

By the time the larger guard had approached Éowyn had stood and was brushing away the dirt and hay where it clung to her skirts. She looked up to meet the eyes of the guard, her lips quirking in a small smile.

"She was not to be woken," Éowyn stated, "I simply placed the garments within the bars."

"I have no doubt she will be grateful of the Lady's generosity," the guard answered, his voice sincere. "But please m'lady, I cannot allow you any more time."

"I understand Sir Guard. I have completed my task. I appreciate you allowing me to offer her one last dignity."

"You are a kind woman, Lady Éowyn," the guard replied, bowing his head and stepping back with every intent to escort her from the prison.

Before Éowyn obliged, she cast a final lingering glance to Klara's prone form, wondering if this would be the last moment she would lay eyes upon this strange, brave girl.

A flash of movement caught her eye and she shifted her gaze to rest on the disheveled madman that served as Klara's neighbor. He smiled at Éowyn with a knowing look, his pale eyes glinting in the darkness.

* * *

 

Kaz didn't remember being released from the police station. She didn't remember clambering into her dad's car. She didn't remember the silence of the ride home. She didn't remember the bite of cold as she pressed her cheek against the frozen passenger side window. She didn't remember staring blankly at the passing colors. She didn't remember the car lurch to a halt. She didn't remember following her dad out of the parking garage and up to their apartment.

She didn't remember stopping short, staring listlessly at the DeFour's closed apartment door until a cough shook her from her apathy.

"Klara," her dad said gently. She looked up to see that he had already unlocked their apartment door, holding it open for her. His eyes were sad. She didn't look into them, but she was sure they were sad.

Kaz lowered her eyes and padded silently after her dad, disappearing into their apartment. The door shut with an audible 'click.'

* * *

 

Titus Ashford hated liars. He hated the way they shifted guilty in their seats. He hated the way their voices trembled. He hated the way they refused to make eye contact. He hated the way they sweat, fidgeted, and shook.

Klara did none of these things. She had stared straight ahead, her hazel eyes boring determinedly into his own. Her hands had been clasped before her. She had not shaken. She had not faltered. She was a Chicago kid. She was tough.

But Ashford was a good detective. Although her hands did not move, he had noticed how white her knuckles got as the interrogation progressed. He had noticed how she had stiffened-however slightly-upon insisting that her friend, Jay DeFour, was not the one who had stabbed her. He had noticed how she had kept her shoulders squared and tense, unable to relax.

Joe had told him that the girl's reaction was perfectly normal in the case of trauma victims; he had-unfortunately- seen it all the time. But Ashford knew she was hiding something. The whole situation stank. Something didn't jive.

Klara Zachary clearly remembered who had assaulted her—to Ashford, her body language had spoken volumes.

"Shit," he muttered as a drop of ketchup fell off his tater tot and splashed upon his tie. He swallowed the last bit of fried potato and drew his tie up to his mouth to lick off the red glob as best he could.

Ashford usually didn't eat and drive, but this case stressed him out. The unusual circumstances were alone to keep him awake at night, but being blatantly lied to by a 22-year old girl…

Ashford hated liars.

* * *

 

The blurry outline of a figure delved into her vision. She could see the blob of Jay's green shirt, almost smeared across her line of sight. His dark hair and skin were visible but his features distorted, as though looking through the lens of a pair of glasses with 20/20 vision. She watched the pink of his mouth open and shut as he spoke to her, though her mind could decipher no words. He seemed agitated and upset, but nary a care could be spared from her own lethargy.

Her body became heavy. Her tongue grew thick. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she descended willingly into the blackness of her mind.

Kaz opened her eyes.

She was lying on the hard floor of her bedroom, the pressure of wood digging into her back.

When Kaz had first wandered into her bedroom, she had stared blankly for several moments at her bed. Or… what was left of it, anyway.

It looked as though crimson curtain had settled over the length of her bed. Blood-her blood-had seeped into the mattress, pooling in the center where she had been lying and spilling out with blushing wings to each edge. The coppery scent of it still hung in the air. It was an impossible amount of blood.

Her stomach had wrenched painfully at the sight. Her dad had blundered in, as though it had just occurred to him that the crime scene that was her bedroom hadn't yet been dealt with. He had apologized to her profusely-though Kaz knew not what for-and promptly dragged the mattress out of her bedroom and from the apartment. She didn't say a thing; simply watched as the bloodied mattress disappeared out the door.

Kaz then walked to the center of her room, lowering herself gingerly to the ground. Her head fell back and she stared at the ceiling, stretching out her arms as though she intended to make a snow angel from the dust on her floor.

It seemed only a moment until her dad's head poked itself in her room. She didn't look at him, already knowing the concern she would see in his eyes and dreading to face it.

"Klare-bear? Would you like to take the couch?" he asked, his voice careful as though she were a wild animal prepared to bolt. "I can make it up for you."

"No thank you," she responded. Her voice seemed strange to her, disembodied, like it belonged to someone else. Kaz, realizing that her lackadaisical attitude was only adding to her dad's worry, added, "I just want to lay here for a little while, thanks though."

"Okay Klare-bear, I'll be here all night if you need me. Just right next door. Let me know if you need anything sweetie… alright?"

"Alright dad. Thanks," Kaz replied, finally looking over at him. A half-hearted smile quirked at her lips. That one simple smile was exhausting.

It seemed to satisfy her father, however. He reciprocated with a wan grin of his own before slowly withdrawing from her doorway. He shut the door, leaving only a sliver of space between the door and the frame. The yellow crescent of light from the kitchen trickled in, settling on her face. Kaz turned away.

The irony of the situation was not lost on her. Kaz had wanted so badly to spend time with her father and now that he was here, she just wanted to shut out the world… him along with it.

She rolled to one side, pillowing her head into the crook of her arm.

The entire situation was fucked up. She'd been sliced open, skewered, and beaten up. She's run for her life, faced off against muscled monsters, and witnessed death.

But none of that compared to the misery she felt in potentially losing her best friend. Her real best friend… not just a character in one of her dreams.

She sighed and contemplated staying awake for the next 80 years. She hated what kept happening when she fell asleep. She didn't want to have that dream again. It was too much. It was ruining her life.

Kaz had every intention of struggling to her feet. She had every intention of staggering into the living room and watching television for the rest of her life.

The exhaustion from the day's events, however, found her suddenly and without remorse.

* * *

 

Kaz opened her eyes, blinking them several times to adjust to her murky surroundings. She was lying on her side on the hard ground, littered with dirt and hay. Iron bars swam into view. The moody flicker of firelight cast long shadows against the ground. She rose her head slightly to get a better look at her surroundings. Her heart sank.

It took only a moment for her to realize that she was lying on the floor of her own personal prison. Figures. Fuckin' figures.

She dropped her head back to the floor, covering her face with her hands. She must've fallen asleep on her bedroom floor… she was in that dream again. After knocking her upside the head, the advisor's guards must've locked her up.

"FUCK!"

"For such a delicate thing, you have quite a mouth."

Her eyes flew open and her head shot up. The source of the voice seemed eerily close, as though its owner were crouched directly in front of her.

Kaz squinted into the darkness but couldn't immediately ascertain the source of the voice from amidst the shadows. She climbed slowly to her feet. She felt her muscles twinge uncomfortably, stiff from lying on the hard floor for hours. She hid the wince that threatened to appear on her face.

Once on her feet, Kaz drew closer to the iron bars of her prison. Upon closer inspection, she deduced that the voice had originated from the darkness of the opposing cell.

As she narrowed her eyes further in an attempt to pick a person from the unstable glow of firelight, a shaggy face suddenly appeared as a man thrust his head into view. Kaz drew back in surprise from the sudden movement, retreating further into her cage.

"Ah, I didn't mean to scare you, little kirinki. Please come back, all I can see are your locks."

Kaz didn't come closer. She crossed her arms over her chest, suddenly conscious of the gaping, bloody hole in her ruined clothing. Why hadn't she just taken Éowyn's offer to change when she had the chance?

"Who are you?" she asked, hating the way her voice wobbled. "Where am I? Am I still in Edoras?"

The man smiled big at this, the white of his teeth the only feature perceivable in the darkness. Kaz got sudden déjà vu of Alice in Wonderland, specifically the part when the Cheshire cat had grinned saucily at Alice from the blackness. The parallels of Alice's Wonderland and Kaz's own personal dream-hell were not lost on her.

"When troubles are few, dreams are few," the man responded, completely ignoring her questions. She felt, more than saw, his eyes peering out at her. "But your dreams, your dreams little kirinki… they consume you."

Kaz sighed, reaching up to run her fingers through her messy locks. She grimaced at the grime and grease she felt there. Of course, her cell-neighbor was a crazy person. Figures.

"They do more than that," Kaz found herself replying. Finding herself in no immediate danger, she lowered herself back down to the floor. A neatly folded bundle of cloth near the door of her cell caught her eye, set purposely next to a plate with a hunk of stale bread. She ignored the food, scooting closer to the bundle.

"Interesting… interesting…" the man murmured to himself. "So which one is real, little kirinki?"

Kaz's hand froze as it reached out for the bundle of fabric, hovering uselessly in the air. She glanced up in shock, her wide eyes finding the man's gaze. A wash of light blazed across his face for the briefest of moments, revealing his curious stare. His eyes were blue and his nose was red. Deep wrinkles lined his face. His long hair and beard was disheveled and scraggly, as though he hadn't of bathed in weeks. Perhaps he hadn't.

"What do you mean?" she asked, finally finding her voice.

"Reality is merely an illusion," the man replied offhandedly, settling back on his haunches. "Albeit… a very persistent one. It exists in the mind, and nowhere else. Your mind seems rather… crowded."

Kaz hesitated. Her hand dropped back to her side. There were a few moments of silence before she started talking.

It poured out of her… the dreams, the orcs, the wounds, the healing and other powers, and Jay. She wasn't sure what made her end up spilling her guts to a complete stranger. Perhaps she found a strange sort of sympathy and understanding from his bizarre statements. Perhaps she was comforted by the fact that he seemed slightly mad, and nobody would believe him if he repeated anything she had said. Perhaps her inability to talk to her own father left her desperate for a confidant. Perhaps her devastation of what had happened with Jay left a void within her she was frantic to fill.

Whatever the reason, the man did not interrupt her as she essentially bore her soul to him. He simply sat in silence, absorbing her words.

"… and I just don't know what to do," she finished at last, her voice shaking with emotion. Kaz realized then her cheeks were wet… when had she started crying?

Silence descended upon them, the only noise was the soft whisper of clothing as she used the sleeve of her ruined hoodie to scrub the tears from her face. Annoyance began to brew within her as the minutes ticked by. Her annoyance slowly morphed into shame. Of course… she had just poured her soul out to a complete stranger… what did she expect?

Suddenly, the man began to chuckle. Although she knew he couldn't see the expression on her face, Kaz found herself growing angry. Her annoyance flared to life.

"What's so funny?"

"Oh! Oh my dear kirinki… I am sorry. I am so, so sorry. It's just… you spend the blissful escape of your dreams in our reality. That is unfortunate."

"Well… it's not like I have a choice," Kaz muttered unhappily, still feeling as though she were being laughed at.

"Oh, no of course not. If one were to choose their dreams, I am sure they would choose riches and power and women. Well… I assume they would," the man fell silent once again, humming softly to himself as he lost himself in his own thoughts.

Kaz heaved a sigh, turning her attention back to the soft bundle of cloth before her. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the bundle was neatly folded shirt and pants.

Kaz was suddenly very excited about the prospect of changing her clothing. She had been feeling much too exposed with the gaping, bloody hole exposing the flesh of her belly.

As she lifted up the first garment a glint of steel was her only warning before a wicked blade tumbled from within the folds of the clothing. She nearly jumped out of her skin.

Once she had recovered from the shock, Kaz plucked the implement from the ground and turned it over in her hands.

The blade was sharp and curved much like a smaller, cleaner version of the orc weapons. Yet the hilt was splintered and worn and fashioned from simple wood. It appeared as though it had been nicked from someone's kitchen.

"A fair woman brought that for you," her cell neighbor informed her, coming up for air. "She smelled clean, like the noble do."

Éowyn, Kaz thought to herself. She suddenly worried at the blade's implication. It was kind of Éowyn to bring her a change of clothing, but why did she bring her a weapon? Were they not going to let her out? Was she destined to whittle away in this small, dirty cage like her gnarled old neighbor?

Or worse… were they going to execute her? Would they drag her out to the town square and behead her, like she's seen in those movies about castles and knights? Or would they consider her inhuman, and burn her at the stake like a witch?

The thought of being consumed by flames brought her back to her first moments within this nightmarish dreamscape, when she was trapped inside of the burning building scrabbling for purchase on the splintering wood. The memory made her shudder.

Did Éowyn bring her a weapon so Kaz could fight her way out? The idea of actually sinking the curved blade into another human being curdled her stomach. Kaz placed the weapon back on the ground, as though the mere idea dirtied her hands.

"Gloom does not bode well on such a pretty face. A coin for your thoughts?" her neighbor asked, drawing Kaz from her own mind. She looked up into the glittering eyes of the elder, expression distraught.

"What're they going to do with me?"

"Ah," he replied, sitting back. He extended his hands out before him, brushing the pads of his fingers together in a contemplatively. "That depends, little kirinki. Do they fear you?"

Before she had a chance to reply, the old man began continued.

"Oh, but of course they do. Just look at you. You're bright, you're different, you're a lady but you're not-"

"Hey!" Kaz retorted indignantly, yet the man continued, paying her no mind.

"-and even the most foolish of fools can tell you're not from this world."

Kaz thoughtlessly reached up and touched her pink-hued hair as if emphasizing the elder's point.

"So of course they fear you. You're a threat, an unexpected complication thrust into the tailfeathers of their grand plan. I bet that stinkin' snake of a puppet is plotting your demise at this very moment. Sneakin' and scheming and cowering under the heavy boot of Sauron the White, pshaw! If darkness infects even the souls of the White, what will come of the souls of the Browns? The Grays? The Blues?" The older man's nostrils flared as he was suddenly and unexpectedly consumed by rage.

"-His creatures of black storming through the trees with naught a care, sucking up the light and spitting out the dark…"

Just as Kaz thought she had lost the man to madness he rounded on her, his once-soft eyes alight with anger and conviction. He pressed his face against the bars of his cell, flushed nose poking through the gap.

"So fly, little kirinki! Fly as far and as fast as your wings can carry you! Break free of your cage and plunge into the night!"

"How?" Kaz protested, adrenaline pooling in her gut at the urgency of the elder's tone. She found herself growing angry back. "How in the hell do you propose I do that?"

The elder paused, confusion flickering over his face as though he was suddenly crushed by the confines of reality.

Aw fuck they're going to kill me and I bet it's going to fuckin' hurt.

Her neighbor reared up to grab the bars of his cell on either side of his face, pressing his face even closer towards Kaz. She shrank back involuntarily, uncomfortable with the intensity of his gaze.

"Are you scared?" the man pressed.

Kaz's brow furrowed in confusion. "Scared?"

"Are you scared to die?"

"No… nervous maybe," she replied. Who wouldn't be? I just found out I'm probably scheduled to die.

"DON'T!" the man roared. His grip on the iron bars tightening considerably. His cry jounced off the walls of their confined quarters, ricocheting down the hallway in a burst of unintelligible noise. The bars of the cells seemed to rattle in their hinges. A distant muttering of lewd calls bloomed from beyond the darkness of the hallway as the other prison inhabitants responded in kind.

She just gaped at him, stunned into silence.

"Don't," he repeated, his voice softer. "Don't be frightened. Or nervous. Or anything. Your emotion gives this reality power. Your reality is only in the perception of your mind, little kirinki."

The man giggled then, a high-pitched clamor that startled Kaz. "How funny! Maybe Arda is your reality, and all this time you've just been dreaming! Oh, what cruel jokesters the Valar can be!"

Kaz shook her head, flabbergasted at the idea. "No, this is definitely the dream. And it's not like I'll die in real life if I die here... that's ridiculous."

Maybe that'll be my final escape from this hellhole, she thought with sudden excitement. Though rather macabre, Kaz wondered if she should be looking forward to her 'death.' Perhaps 'dying' in the dream was the one way to stop this hellish dreamscape from occurring every time she went to sleep.

"Foolish girl!" the elder spat as though he could read her thoughts. His vehemence made her jump. The slight, frail appearance of this man did nothing to betray the amount of passion he exuded in this moment.

"Tell me, was that injury painful? It certainly looks like it was," he continued, gesturing towards the gaping hole in the torso of her top. Kaz's hand unconsciously moved to cover the spot protectively. The memory of the wound's origin surfaced in dazzling detail, causing an involuntary shiver to tickle down her spine.

She said nothing, though the elder's eyes flashed knowingly. Her reaction spoke volumes.

"Now why would it be painful, hmm? This is naught but a dream, is it not?"

The elder man had just vocalized what had bothered her since arriving in this dreamscape. Kaz could comprehend the strange characters and monsters and insanity. She could comprehend being able to heal herself and jump farther and fight better. She couldn't, however, understand why it hurt. Why did her dreams put her in the hospital? Why did they send her best friends to prison?

It all seemed like some colossal cosmic joke nobody had filled her in on.

"Tell me then, if you know so much," she challenged, crossing her arms over her chest. "Why do I feel pain in my dream?"

"Have you been listening at all?" the man blustered, exasperation in his voice. "Clean the cobwebs from your ears, child. It's you! Your mind. Your mind believes something ought to be painful, so it makes it so."

Suddenly, in one quick movement the man produced a small pebble from the folds of his robe and launched it with surprising strength at her face. Kaz uncrosses her arms and moves to deflect the projectile but was too slow. The pebble smacked her right between the eyes before bouncing harmlessly to the ground.

"Ow!" she yelps, rubbing the bridge of her nose. The elder man was stronger than he appeared, if the smarting of her nose was any proof.

"Did that hurt?" he asked, his tone bordering on triumphant.

"Yes it hurt! You threw a rock at me!" Kaz growled before realization dawned. "…oh."

The corners of his lips drew up into a satisfied smirk as he watched the realization play over Kaz's face.

"If your mind can't tell the difference between a real pebble and a dream pebble, will it be able to tell the difference between a real death and a fake death?"

Oh.

The man sat back on his haunches, looking damn near pleased with himself.

"Well… fuck," she murmured softly, sitting back.

He was right. The crazy man in the dungeon cell across from her was right. Was her mind making the events that transpire in this dreamscape real because it can't tell what's a dream and what's not? It would certainly explain a lot.

After all, this 'dream' presented a rather convincing pretense of reality. She could clearly smell the rot, feces, and odor of unwashed bodies that comprised the stench of the dungeons. She could hear the faint rumpus of the other occupants of the prison down the narrow hallway. She could see the soft flicker of the lonely candle that illuminated the features of her neighbor in its golden light, casting long shadows from the crevices of the elder's face. She could see the hallway was completely encased in darkness, the yellow fingers of light only reaching so far.

It was all so real. Not for the first time, Kaz was in awe of the material existence her mind had concocted.

But it's not real, none of it is.

She picked up the old man's pebble from the ground, running the pad of her thumb over its smooth surface. She squeezed it gently, gauging the solidness of the weight in her palm.

If it's not real, I should be able to crush this into dust, Kaz reasoned.

"Wait, WAIT!" came a shout, disturbing her from concentration. Kaz looked up in annoyance. The man had thrust an arm through the gap in the bars and was stretching his hand out in her direction.

"That's my pebble, don't you hurt it! Give it back!"

She rolled her eyes but obediently tossed the rock back to the elder man. She barely resisted the urge to chuck it at his face, much like he had done to her.

"If you're going to test your reality do it on something useful, like the bars," the older man huffed, cradling the rock in his hands and clutching it close to his chest. Kaz wondered if the stone was one of the few artifacts the man kept from his freedom.

But he was right. Kaz scooted closer to the bars of her cage, reaching out to grip the solid columns. The bars themselves-though old and covered with grime-were thick and sturdy. Upon shaking them they hardly budged.

"Do you really think I could break th-"

Upon catching sight of the elder man the words died in her throat. He wasn't listening to her. He had again lost himself in his own mind, stroking the small pebble with his forefinger and crooning to it softly. He gave no indication of having heard her. Kaz sighed.

Well. Time to Superman this bitch, she thought to herself, licking her lips and climbing to her knees for better leverage.

Kaz remembered wielding the heavy sword as she faced off against the orcs in the valley of Harrowdale. Though it had been dense and irritatingly weighty as she carried it along in the daytime, she didn't remember being bothered by its girth as she dueled with the gangly creatures. Perhaps she had assimilated a sort of super-strength in that moment.

Kaz struggled to remember her mindset at the time. What had she been thinking about? What allowed her to turn into a dream-ninja?

I was angry. No… I was pissed, she remembered. Juliet had just asked me to kill her. I was pissed because it was my dream… and there was no way in hell-

"I knew it was a dream," Kaz murmured to herself. That was it. As long as Kaz knew it was a dream, and felt strongly that the dream was, in fact, a dream and nothing more, she could do anything. Nothing could touch her.

Then why the hell did it hurt when she was impaled by the orc's blade? Why did she experience the white-hot blow of pain upon seeing the injury? How had she let it happen in the first place?

"Allard."

As his name fell from her lips, she knew suddenly what had happened.

Moments before she was skewered by the orcs' weapon, she had lain eyes on Allard. She distinctly remembered the deep gashes that spewed bright blood from his head and forearms. She remembered the sweat that darkened his blonde hair and matted it to his skull. She remembered the expression on his face, the relief upon seeing Kaz alive and well.

In that moment, Kaz felt something for this man. Relief? Fondness?

Whatever emotion she had felt for this man had damned her. In that moment, Allard became more than just a figment of her imagination. He became a man-a man that had saved her from being obliterated by the Uruk-hai creature, a man that had stood up for her as she wandered barefoot into the group of Upbourners, a man that was kind to her as they lay down for the night upon the cold dirt of Harrowdale.

In that moment, Allard had become real. The dream had become real. The blade penetrating her body had become real.

"Fuck," she whispered at the realization. "Fuck fuck fuck."

These people... Juliet, Tompkin, Allard, Éowyn… no matter how real they seem… they're not people. It hadn't been real when Juliet gazed at her with tear-stained cheeks, pleading with Kaz to end her life. It hadn't been real when Tompkin had berated her in front of the tribe of Upbourners, rousing rage in her gut.

Kaz remembered clearly the way Éowyn had first gazed at her with so much intensity from the other side of the room, her very demeanor radiating nobility and grace. She remembered the relief she felt when Juliet tumbled into her arms with a cry, sobbing with joy at Kaz's miraculous recovery. She remembered the way the men from Upbourn had looked at her as she burst into the Golden Hall, the grief of the recent loss etched into their faces.

None of it is real. It never was. It never will be.

She couldn't feel a damn thing for these people. To wake up, to survive in this hellish nightmare she'll have to treat them for what they truly are-figments of her imagination.

She reached out to grip the bars in front of her.

It's not real. None of it is.

Kaz's eyes flicked up at the elder man. He's not real.

She looked over at the lantern and its tiny flame, glimmering lazily on its wick. That's not real either.

She shifted slightly to adjust her angle, feeling the hard, unyielding dirt beneath her knees. Not even the ground is real.

Kaz narrowed her eyes at the bars before her, seemingly steadfast against her feeble strength. Those are definitely not real.

Keeping a firm grasp on the bars and the thoughts in her head, Kaz pulled with all of her strength.


	11. Birds and Bats

_"Obstacles in your path should not be regarded as obstacles. They are simply features to the landscape, which have to be negotiated. It only becomes an obstacle if you let it negate your own intention and will."_

_\- Ken McLeod_

* * *

  _December 22 nd, 2014_

 

“Klare-bear?” a voice sounded in the apartment, filling the small space with its gruff bass. “Klara, are you asleep?”

Klara’s father knocked delicately on her door. It creaked forward on its hinges, exposing the prone, dozing form of his daughter sprawled across her bedroom floor.

He had left her be after hoisting the blood-sodden mattress into the dumpster behind the apartment complex. The faraway look that had been pasted across her face all the way home indicated to him that she needed her space.

Her father was relieved, in a way, that his daughter’s mind had been at peace enough to be lulled into slumber. She needed her rest—the bizarre events of the day had begun to wear on him as well. He found himself yawning despite himself, the coarse curls of his beard tickling the corners of his mouth.

He recalled vividly the terror he had experienced when he received the phone call from Erik. The youth had been tight-lipped and direct, though the agitation and fear was palpable even over the phone. Klara’s father had immediately shooed out the customers lingering in the gas station before locking the door and bolting towards the apartment complex as quickly as possible through the day-old piles of snow.

The ambulance was already stationed in front of the apartment complex when he had burst onto their street, the whites, yellows, and reds a stark contrast to their wintery surroundings. He had caught the EMTs as they emerged from the apartment building carrying a stretcher between them. Even from a hundred yards away, he recognized the pale face of his daughter poking out of one end of the sheet.

His belly had bottomed out in that moment. Klara… oh, Klara looked so small and fragile on that stretcher, as if the medics were carefully maneuvering a china doll between the two of them. Her short, wild hair was haloed around her face, seeming to suck every semblance of pink from her pallid cheeks. Ashen lids hid her beautiful tawny eyes from the world. If it weren’t for the slight rise and fall of her chest beneath the sheet, her father could have easily mistaken her for dead.

“Klara!” he remembered screaming, rushing towards the ambulance. He had muscled past the group of onlookers that ogled the prone form of his daughter. A policeman had pushed him back roughly, shouting at him. He shouted back, yelling words that seemed to satisfy the policeman, as the man had let him pass.

He remembered repeating his daughter’s name under his breath like a mantra as he gazed at her colorless face. He had followed the stretcher into the ambulance, sitting back and watching with numb fascination as the medics worked tirelessly to keep her alive… to keep that machine beeping.

A bright, red splotch had begun to stain the sheet directly atop her belly, spreading swiftly as if someone had dropped food dye into a glass of water.

He ignored this though, his gaze fixed firmly on her face as though he were determined to witness every last breath.

Klara’s father had seriously thought he would lose her that morning. The doctors had bustled to and fro with sweat on their brows once the ambulance had reached the hospital. He had sat, rigid and unflinching as his fingers gripped the armrest of the chair in the waiting room, as though it were the only thing rooting his body to that moment. He had thought life would rob him of his daughter like it had robbed him of his wife. He knew that if she had died, his soul would have gone with her.

Klara was his only family. Klara was his everything. She was why he worked long hours at the gas station to provide for them. He would have put himself in her place without a moment’s notice.

He was not a God-fearing man, but when Klara had magically healed, he had profusely thanked all that was holy because, it seemed, God had given his angel back to him.

Now, seeing his daughter alive and well and sprawled across her bedroom floor, his gaze drifted upwards for the briefest of moments as he silently mouthed the words, ”Thank you.”

* * *

  _September 27 th, 3018_

 

Her biceps ached from exertion as Kaz grumpily rubbed her heated forearms, cringing as they throbbed with struggle. Despite her best efforts the bars of her cell hadn't budged—she hadn't been able to channel the strength of Superman or Hulk and bend the bars back like putty as she had expected.

From the other side of the hallway, her prisonmate was chuckling softly from behind his bushy beard. He continued to stroke the pad of one wrinkled thumb over the surface of his riverstone in a pattern that Kaz now recognized was worn into the surface.

"Why didn't it work?" she demanded of him, only partly expecting a straight answer, if at all.

There was a moment of silence as the man halted the repeating pattern of his thumb, as though considering her words. A crooked smile then broke his aged face as he lifted his head to fix her with a glittering stare.

"Perhaps it will, when you want to leave."

"What?"

At that moment, a ruckus stirred from the end of the hallway followed by the grating screech of a heavy door shifting in its hinges. This was the only warning given to announce the soon-to-be presence of the guard, so Kaz seized the opportunity to grab the bundle of clothing—encasing the knife—and draw it protectively to her chest. She scrambled to her feet, her muscles tense with anticipation.

The sound of heavy, metal footfalls betrayed the guard's presence before he came into view. His stern gaze immediately found Kaz's, his eyes boring into hers from behind the eyeholes of his helmet. Like the guards she had attacked in the Golden Hall, this guard's body was heavy with decorated armor and chainmail. His face was expressionless, his mouth set into a determined line. However, Kaz noticed his calloused fingers nervously twitching towards the hilt of his sheathed weapon. _She_ made _him_ uneasy?

The absurdity of the whole situation caused a bark of unexpected laughter to burst from her chest, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the train of incessant giggling that threatened to follow. The guard physically flinched at the abrupt noise, shrinking back a smidge into the darkness. His actions only caused her to snort into her hand and nearly double over with guffaws, her body convulsing in the hilarity of the moment.

Kaz was still nearly on the floor in hysterics by the time the guard had recovered and composed himself, remembering his place. He drew out the key to her cell and unlocked it, his other hand clenched firmly on the butt of his sword, and swung the cell door open with a resounding clang. Kaz had only just managed to catch her breath as the guard took two steps into her cage and seized her free wrist. He then yanked her bodily from the cell, drawing a surprised gasp from the girl as she struggled to keep her feet, her other hand pressing her small bundle tightly to her breast.

She nearly tumbled into that broad metal chest as the guard jerked her from her prison and into the feeble light of the hallway lantern. She could see the whites of his eyes then, the quick movement of his irises as he drank in the sight of this small female that had posed such a threat to his king. The corners of his lips curled slightly, as if to comment on the way Kaz glared at him with scared eyes. Or perhaps he intended to berate her for her strange, short hair—orange in the dim glow and slick with grease and muck. Maybe his intention was to gauge her obliterated attire with reproach, commenting on the indecency she produced by bearing her belly and the undersides of her small breasts to the world. Or maybe the guard would have simply marveled at the idiocy of the situation like she had moments before, chuckling to himself at how such a small and unassuming girl had twisted the knickers of his country's top leaders.

Whatever the guard might have done was null, as an impulse of movement to Kaz's left distracted them both from their thoughts. The guard maintained a vice-like grip on her arm as his head whipped around in surprise. The tendons in his biceps bulged as his fist tightened around the weapon at his belt. A stress vein had appeared on his neck, throbbing duly.

Kaz's prisonmate, the old man, had darted to his feet in an explosion of unexpected speed. His face was pressed against the bars of his cage, his knobbed nose pointed straight at the two of them. He was not even a foot away from the pair, and from this distance Kaz could clearly see the bushiness of his eyebrows and the small clusters of gray locks in his flowing chestnut beard. Standing up, the man was short... nearly as short as Kaz herself. His wide blue eyes beamed maniacally at the guard.

"Do you know who I am, Sir Guard?" the old man asked of him, his voice raspy but strong. The guard's shoulders had already begun to slacken, perceiving this man as little threat.

"Stand down, prisoner," the guard responded, beginning to tug on Kaz's wrist. "Come, girl."

The elder grinned then, yellowed teeth appearing from beneath the fur of his beard. "The foolishness of man is so plentiful, if it were to be eaten then none may ever starve. I am Radagast the Brown, Sir Guard, and I would very much like you to release this woman."

The guard looked up, as if to retort, but in that moment the air became thick with beaks and feathers and cries and screeching. The guard screamed, releasing Kaz as he lurched away from her, drawing his hands to his face. His body contorted in on itself in an attempt to escape the onslaught, doubling over as he clasped his arms over his vulnerable face. Before she had realized what was happening Kaz had immediately thrown up her hands to protect her own countenance.

Murky memories of her relatively ordinary childhood came flooding back to her in that moment. She was visiting her grandma’s farmhouse with her father on one of their annual summer excursions to the country. At the ripe age of 10, her father and her grandma’s conversation had soon disinterested her and she found herself pussyfooting around the old Victorian home. Kaz was enthralled with the way the house creaked and moaned to her, as though it were whispering its memories to anyone who would listen.

She had found herself at the bottom of a narrow staircase, leading up to what she now knew was the attic. Fearless and not one to shy away from adventure, her 10-year-old self sidled up the staircase and slowly opened the thin wooden door. She had only had a few seconds to blink warily into the darkness before a chorus of screams seemed to tear the entire house apart. The darkness became _alive_ and lashed out at her, sweeping her scuffed Converses straight off the top step. It howled and chirped and suffocated her, tangling in her hair and catching her clothes.

It was only later did she learn that she had unknowingly surprised a colony of bats that had nested in her grandma’s musty attic. The memory of being assaulted by the cloud of tiny winged creatures, however, occupied the forefront of her mind in this very moment. Burying her face into the crook of her elbow, Kaz flailed uselessly in the darkness for a full five seconds before she realized she was not the target of the attack.

She unearthed her face from the safety of her arms to peek over at the source of the commotion. What she saw caused her jaw to slacken in shock.

A swarm of scarlet colored birds nearly engulfed the guard’s thrashing form in a chaotic frenzy of feathers and piping wails. In the low light of the prison lantern the mass of beasts were almost indistinguishable from one another, the wave of scarlet and black seemed to descend upon the man like a shapeless demon hungry for flesh.

Someone was beckoning her, and it took her a heartbeat to shake herself from her temporary paralysis. Kaz turned her head to meet the stern gaze of the old man— _what had he said his name was? Radagast?_ —the expression on her face mirroring her confounded state.

“Wha— “ she began, bumbling over her words, “what did you— “

Radagast the Brown waved his hand in frustration. “Nevermind the how, little kirinki. It’s time to fly. Go! Quickly now!”

“I—What about you?” she demanded. “The guard must have the— “

A clink of metal caused her to look up. A small mouse had emerged from the old man’s sleeve, staring right at Kaz with its expressionless dark eyes. In its jowls it clutched a small, bronze key not unlike the one the guard had used to free her from her own cage. Kaz gaped stupidly at Radagast. Her brain was on overdrive in an effort to keep up with everything happening in this moment.

“Nobody puts Radagast in a trap,” he assured her, his gaze softening. He offered her a sly wink. “I’m only here because this is where I need to be. But you, little one, you need to go.”

Kaz just stood, rooted to the spot for a heartbeat too long.

“RUN!” Radagast bellowed.

The volume and intensity of the old man’s voice finally formed the link between her brain and body that Kaz needed.

“Th-Thank you,” she spluttered, offering Radagast a clumsy bow before turning on one heel and blasting off down the hallway towards the entrance to the prison. Fastening the bundle tighter to her chest, she ignored the jeers and hollering from the other prisoners and she entered their line of sight.

In three swift seconds Kaz bounded up upon the second guard. He had wandered into the hallway as well, likely nervous from the amount of time his partner had been taking in retrieving her. His eyes bulged as she burst from the darkness like a demon from hell.

Time seemed to slow down. From her peripheral vision Kaz saw the smaller guard stretch one armor-clad hand towards the weapon at his waist, mere inches from brushing his fingers over the leather-wrapped hilt. Her eyes focused on his face, Kaz watched as the guard’s stunned expression morphed into one of distrust and anger. She witnessed the small wrinkles of concentration crack the skin between his brows and the corners of his mouth as he began to crouch, zeroing in on her. Though the guard was obviously leery of Kaz she knew he would not hesitate to run her through with his sword, finishing what the Uruk-hai had started what seemed like ages ago.

With a mere fraction of a breath to react, Kaz didn’t slow her speed but used her momentum to launch her lithe body into the air. The muscles in her core and legs, chiseled from months of parkour, coiled tightly and released her like a springboard, easily flinging her several feet in the air.

The guard made the damning mistake of hesitating, and a beautifully dumbfounded expression warped his face the moment before Kaz buried one bony knee into his nose. She inwardly cringed at the sensation of cartilage crunching beneath her kneecap.

Knocked off balance by surprise, pain, and the momentum of a 110 pound body plunging into his face, the guard immediately tipped backward, clattering to the ground in a pile of leather and armor. Kaz tucked and rolled off of the man as soon as they hit the ground. As soon his mouth was free the guard immediately began howling (with a slight gurgle) in fury, floundering his limbs around blindly in an effort to strike the small woman who had downed him. Kaz was already on her feet, however, and easily evaded the guard’s reaching fingers.

A small corner of her mind registered the fact that the prison had fallen silent, the inmates apparently stupefied into muteness from her display. Kaz, however, didn’t dwell on this. She dashed forward and slipped through the heavy gate leading out of the prison, immediately pushing it closed and latching it back up.

Heaving a sigh, she stumbled backwards a few steps. She gulped down the musty air provided in the main room of the dungeons, realizing then just how squalid the air was in the depths of the prison. Though the air she greedily inhaled was stale and mildewy it lacked the distinct flavor of human filth she realized she had grown accustomed to.

A sudden bang nearly caused her to jump out of her skin before she realized it was one of the guards slamming his fists against the latched gate. It rattled slightly but didn’t budge, as it was specifically designed to keep individuals _in_ the prison. Muffled yelling could be heard from behind the thick door, and Kaz noticed the whites of eyeballs pressed up against the small cracks between the bars, determined to catch a glimpse of her. She purposely moved out of the gate’s line of sight, unwilling to be seen.

Ignoring the commotion from the doorway, Kaz looked up the long, spiraling staircase that she assumed led out of the dungeons. From the top of the staircase, a soft glow of light spilled into the gloom of the dungeons, as if beckoning her to it.

She took a deep breath of the blessed air and steeled herself for what may await her at the top of that staircase.

* * *

 

Kaz peeked around the corner once she reached the top stair, staring into a blessedly empty expanse of hallway. It was nighttime, she realized. Only darkness and the twinkle of pale stars could be perceived behind the high windows adorning the leftmost side of the long hall. The only noises she could hear were the crackle of torches illuminating the hallway, the distant chorus of crickets beyond the glassless windows, and the wild beating of her own heart.

Kaz had finally abandoned her original clothing before ascending the stairway, pulling the clothes Éowyn had left her over her unwashed body. The garments were very plain but comfortable, comprised of a dark-colored baggy tunic and dark leggings. The leggings were a special kind of joy to pull on, and Kaz cringed as the form-fitting cotton grazed over her dirty and bristly legs.

Thankfully, Éowyn had the incredible foresight to leave Kaz with a dark gray wool cloak that was so big on her that she had to hike it up to prevent the ends from grazing the ground. The hood was wide, however, and successfully swallowed Kaz’s entire head.

 _Thank you Éowyn_ , she silently thanked the woman, drawing the hood closer around her face. The hood prevented her from being an obvious target with her bright pink hair.

The only thing that Éowyn did not leave her was a pair of shoes, but Kaz figured there was a good reason behind this. Perhaps the guards wouldn’t allow the woman to take them to Kaz. She wiggled the naked toes on her feet, sensing the rapidly-developing callouses there. Kaz just hoped she didn’t step on any sharp rocks or sticks.

She pulled herself back to the present. Kaz knew she had to act quickly; the two prison guards had likely come to fetch her for a purpose, so they would be expected to turn up with her in tow at some point soon. She had best get moving before someone came looking for her.

Gathering her courage, Kaz stole down the hallway, bare feet slapping against the wood floor. Hearing voices, she flung herself behind a column a hair’s breadth before two heavily-armed guards emerged from behind a corner.

_Shit!_

“Where are they?” one of the guards grumbled to his counterpart, his voice irritable, “Lord Gríma grows more agitated with every passing moment. He wants this done.”

The other guard darted a furtive glance to the entrance of the dungeons. Kaz felt extremely exposed in her position, only hidden by a slight groove in the wall and the cast of a long shadow. A string of curses bubbled through her mind, and she could swear the two men could hear her frantically beating heart. Sweat beaded at the base of her neck.

“Do you want me to check?” the other guard asked, sounding very much like he didn’t want to. Did Kaz really make them that nervous?

“Yes, do so,” the first guard told him, rubbing his eyes through the eyeholes in his helmet. “But use caution; I have been warned that though this witch is unintimidating in appearance, she is very formidable.”

 _Witch?_ She imagined a cackling old woman with warts on her nose and a pointy hat. Kaz had to bite down on the fabric of her hood to prevent herself from again erupting into a fit of manic giggling.

The other guard nodded gravely at his counterpart’s words, dipping into a shallow bow before striding purposely towards the entrance to the dungeons. Kaz held her breath as he passed her, though he seemed too preoccupied with his task to bother looking too deeply into the shadows.

As she heard the slight clink of the guard descending the stairs she knew she had mere minutes before her escape was discovered. The slight advantage she had had with the element of surprise would be lost. However, it seemed as though she were trapped in her current position. If she dared make a move in either direction, the second guard would surely see or hear her.

Kaz swallowed hard. Time was running out. If she didn’t make a move now, it would only get worse for her. The guard going into the dungeon would realize what had happened and would shout for help. A small army would pour into the hallway, choking off all hope of escape.

_Fuck fuck fuck shit piss motherfucker._

She had to run. She didn’t know how many guards were behind the next corner, but she knew that she could outrun at least this one. She had to run. She had to run.

So she did.

A surprised, thundering bark erupted at her back as she blazed past the guard, running as quickly as her short legs would carry her. Her hands grasped at her cloak and hiked it past her ankles to ensure she wouldn’t trip as she ran.

She rounded the corner and realized very quickly that her path stopped abruptly. Several feet in front of her, the path led to a pair of pale arches framing the dimly lit city of Rohan. Then it ended abruptly, as the Golden Hall of Meduseld was built on a stone platform taller than five grown men to accommodate the fact that it was built on a hill with uneven terrain.

Kaz had unknowingly spilled out on one of the sides of the mighty building. She paused for a moment, unsure, her bare feet skidding to a halt. The shouting grew louder from behind her, escalating exponentially in volume. A movement to her left caught her eye, and Kaz turned her head to witness a cluster of guards, alarmed by the noise, catch sight of her and immediately break into a run. She turned to her right only to see another gaggle of guards making their way towards her.

She couldn’t go right, she couldn’t go left, and she couldn’t go back. It was almost comical in a way, like she was the punchline of some sick joke nobody had bothered to clue her in on. Or it was as if she were a character in a Scooby-Dooesque chase scene and she had run out of doors.

_Oh, fuck it all to hell._

Knowing the guard from behind her was quickly bearing down—she could almost sense his hot breath against the back of her neck—Kaz lurched forward into a full-out sprint.

If she had had more time to consider her situation, her mind might have drifted to the conversation she had literally just had with Radagast the Brown regarding her limitations in this dreamscape. Recalling her experience with the Uruk-hai and the resulting hospital trip, the consequences of leaping from a 30-foot wall might have frozen her to the spot.

Yet the adrenaline made her fearless. The only thought that flitted through her mind was how she had successfully scaled the wooden barrier all those nights ago on the banks of Upbourn. Kaz didn’t allow herself to consider anything else. She didn’t think of her father. She didn’t think of Jay. She didn’t think of Juliet, of Allard, or of Éowyn. Kaz sank into a blissfully blank part of her mind, and, as her feet left the ground, all she could think of was how perfect the night air tasted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to my brilliant beta reader, Whitney.


End file.
